Retribution Nor Redemption
by Orin Drake
Summary: 2nd in the Sins series. Set 4 years afterward Kyrie and Rodger get out of Garden. Story completed as of 21103.
1. Chapter 1

"Retribution Nor Redemption" and the general overall concept of "Retribution Nor Redemption" is completely copyright Orin Drake 2002, as are the characters Kyrie Leonhart and Rodger Kinneas. The characters Seifer Almasy, Squall Leonhart, Quistis Trepe, Ellone (Leonhart?), Laguna Loire and Rinoa "The Great Big Bitch" Heartily (biased? me?) are copyright Squaresoft, as are the terms SeeD, gunblade, Trabia Garden, Griever, and probably a lot of other stuff I forgot to mention. Hell, if you played the game, you know. Enough said.   
Background: Well. Here is the "anticipated" sequel to The Sins of Two Fathers. This won't be as much action as it will be psychological warfare, I think. Don't know what else to tell you. Beware bad language, sexuality and social outcasts having fun regardless of their status at the expense of others.   
  
  


Retribution Nor Redemption   
Chapter 1   
by Orin Drake 

**I had that dream again.** She typed. She was sure he probably didn't want to hear about it, but she'd tell him anyway. He was her captive audience, after all. She waited for his response while pouring herself some coffee. Squall had been right; it was an addictive form of pure, liquid energy. Who knew energy was brown-black?   
**Of Hojo's lab?** Appeared on the screen with a whining computerized beep.   
**Yeah.** She typed back. **Everything was the same. Except this time I think I saw Sephiroth as a kid**.She sent the message on with a shiver. As an afterthought, she added, **And it was damn disturbing.**   
The response came faster than usual. **As a kid? That IS disturbing.**   
**I can't imagine what his childhood must have been like. If my dreams are anything like Hojo's real lab.** She typed, trying to shake the images from her head. It was like every awful horror movie mad scientist's torture chamber; only far too real. Things in jars, half alive, and humans with bits and pieces removed and replaced with wires, if at all.   
**They are.**Assured the screen. **Too accurate.**   
She really preferred not to think about it anymore. She'd have time for that later, during the assembly. **How are you holding up?**   
**Okay. But I'm still hungry.**   
She chuckled to herself. **That must be annoying as hell.**   
Even through the thousands of miles distance, only computers to connect them, the sarcasm came through. **Thank you. Your concern warms my prison.**   
She laughed. **_I'M_ not the one that chose to get imprisoned with a psycho.**   
**And I can't even talk to the head.** The screen complained.   
**That's what I'm here for.** She joked.   
**It's almost 7.** Her bedside alarm beeped twice to reassure her that was true.   
She groaned. **Yeah, it is. I guess I'll talk to you later. Try not to get too bored.**   
**I'll do what I can. At least I can read stuff.**   
She was so incredibly glad she'd given him the computer. **Take care, Cloud.** She typed while getting up. She certainly didn't want to be late for this particular assembly. She just might be able to graduate with the rest of her class. Gently giving a tug to the little device located in the disk drive, she placed the communication transponder in her pocket. Lucky Cloud; she could use it to talk to him from any system-linked computer. Being granddaughter of the President of Esthar, she had a lot of access codes for a lot of said computer systems.   
But, all was not perfect. She still didn't know if she had the grades to graduate. She could only assume that if she didn't, Quistis would have told her already. But then, the Headmaster still didn't like her very much. Mr. _Sir Yessir_ was none too pleased when Quistis made the suggestion Kyrie and Rodger move in together in one of the larger, fancier than average doubles. Kyrie herself was shocked to have heard Quistis actually made the suggestion at all. But she certainly didn't mind in the least. Fact was, the Headmaster had said absolutely not, no way, not in this Garden, at no time. So they simply decided not to tell him.   
It was best not to think about that man any more than she had to this morning, she decided. They'd have to go sit through a long, boring... well, whatever the hell. It didn't matter, they wouldn't be listening until the announcement about who was graduating. And even then they'd probably miss that part, so... what was the point? Ah yes, that's right. If you did not attend, you automatically did not graduate. That... sucked.   
Kyrie strapped on Eleison and stretched widely. Too early, even with the second cup of coffee. And... where was Rodger? She walked by the bathroom and heard the shower still running. So, she knocked loudly on the door. "Rodger, ten til seven!"   
The shower shut off instantly, then several thumps as he leapt out and tried to dry himself off while dressing. "Dammit..." he murmured.   
"What were you doing in there?" she asked far too innocently, grinning from ear to ear.   
"Planning your overthrow." He joked, dancing out on one leg as he tried to get his pants on mid-run.   
"Riding bareback, are we?" she teased calmly.   
"Shit." He bounced back in, this time trying to take the pants back off--he'd forgotten his briefs.   
Pure amusement. It was a thing they had together. Against everyone. Once in a while another person could share it with them; but it was always the same people, really. No one new, because no one new ever talked to either of them without being forced. They could handle that. They were both psuedo-celebrities and all that.   
More or less completely ready, Kyrie simply sat on the bed and watched him go at it, dressing and drying and cursing himself for taking his time and being late. It was far from the first time this scene had taken place. And still she never failed to be greatly amused by it. He impressed her by, for once, not putting his shirt on inside out or backwards, then by putting his boots on the right feet. "More awake than usual, are we?"   
He bounced around a little more before answering her, getting everything in relative order before they left. "Just dumb luck."   
"Good. We can go with that today." She took a deep breath and walked to the door. The threshold. In a few minutes, they'd know for sure whether or not they'd have to spend another godawful semester being stared at. Or glared at, in the Headmaster's case.   
Rodger gave her a tight hug from behind. "Here goes absolutely nothing."   
"You said it." She agreed, forcing herself not to get nervous. Not that she had a lot to be nervous about, she supposed. After all, they had people on high authority to vouch for them. But then Headmaster Immorien was "greatly concerned" that they be "treated fairly". Asshole.   
They walked out together amid the flood of other nervous students. It wasn't a pretty sight, really. Some of the most confident people were shaking and looking around like lost children. Graduation from Garden wasn't hard, per se, but many of them had hoped to continue their education in various secondary Garden programs in other places. Their grades would make the decision for them.   
Kyrie and Rodger didn't exactly have the same concerns. They were less than interested in a continued education in Garden terms. Hell, Kyrie's grandfather was the fucking president of Esthar, they had jobs set up for them anywhere and anytime they wanted. Being graduates of Garden simply gave them some artificial clout among the "high breeds" of the world, frankly. And if they were interested in more combat training, Quistis was always available.   
As if summoned, the instructor appeared from between the waves of students, waiting by the doorway to the assembly hall. Through the crowd she pushed, feeling rather that she was trying to get to shore in a raging sea. None of the students seemed to see her, much more concerned with their own futures. How rude, really.   
"Quisty!" Kyrie greeted a little louder than usual thanks to the worried din around them.   
Instructor Trepe looked dully at Rodger's hair. "Not quite ready this morning, are we?"   
He looked up at what she'd commented about, not even remembering to have combed the mess, let alone really dried it. "Um... no."   
Quistis grinned softly. "Well, I don't think anyone will notice. Unless they look." She took a quick glance at the rest of the crowd around them, then turned back to Rodger. "It appears you're in good company when it comes to hair style, anyway."   
"I'd hate to be out of style." He remarked deadpan.   
Kyrie grinned and elbowed him softly. "Do we slip you a few Gil now or what?"   
Her aunt giggled and shook her head in mock disapproval. "I only wish I had say in this. I have a good feeling, though."   
Those words were taken into careful consideration. Not that Quistis was a psychic by any stretch of the imagination, but she usually had a very good gut instinct. "I hold you to that." Kyrie joked.   
The instructor only smiled knowingly. They both had the grades to get the hell out. The only thing that could possibly hold them back was the Headmaster's personal opinion. And should the need arise, Quistis _would_ risk her job for them. Hopefully that would never have to happen, though. Who else would ever hire her? "Well, you two better grab a couple of good seats."   
The couple breathed a collective sigh of hopelessness. Given that the gibbering of the worried students was only getting louder, they merely waved to Quistis and walked on. She gave them two thumbs up and waved back, crossing her fingers. She then hoped, seeing them disappear into the assembly hall, that it wasn't a misconstrued gesture... then started chuckling.   


They sat in their usual place--far away from everyone else. The hall was meant to hold all students from all classes (though they were already planning an expansion for the next year), so it wasn't hard to find empty seats at all. They still seemed to remain in their chosen place, their very essence apparently keeping everyone at least five seats away in all directions. Not a bad thing.   
There was a nervous rush of conversation from all around them as they waited for the lights to go down and the fires of hell to burst through the stage--or for the Headmaster to walk in. It was clear that the pile of rolled up papers at the central pedestal contained many tickets out, and many more right back in. It looked like there were plenty for everyone, but looks could be deceiving. The hall was utterly crawling with murmurs of the ones who thought perhaps they'd been ignored this time around.   
And then the clear, crisp sounds of overpriced shoes began from the staff entrance. Headmaster Immorien walked in confidently, his lapdog, Assistant Headmaster Evaan, in his shadow. Footstep after footstep lead the room into utter silence, the entire collection of students watching, waiting--save Kyrie and Rodger, who were silently thumb wrestling to pass the time it took for the bloated bastard to start speaking.   
The words from the Headmaster rolled over the room like thunder. "These next few moments may well determine your future."   
Hushed awe erupted and fell. Kyrie won twice in a row and was going for the third. Everyone was waiting for a signal, an appraisal, to be told where to go and who to thank for it.   
"Anna Arporoe." He called, holding out one of the scripts.   
Ah, alphabetical order. Fantastic, they had plenty of time to kill. "Three times in a row." Kyrie whispered triumphantly. "You owe me... a muffin."   
Rodger grinned, keeping his voice low. "I call cheating. Unfairness of some kind."   
The booming names continued to rattle off until finally the Headmaster shouted, "Rodger Kinneas."   
Taking a deeply comical breath, Rodger strutted up to the front and hoped for the best. He sensed the eyes of the whole room watching him, waiting for something to happen. Headmaster Immorien only handed him the diploma, giving his hand a quick shake and sending him on his way.   
It was... very uneventful, really. The key out of the dungeon in his hand, and there had been no thunder. No earthquake, no natural disasters, no fires of hell; just paper. Not that he minded. It was _his_, and he had _graduated_. He put the rolled piece of paper under his arm, and continued with the thumb wrestling challenge.   
After several more matches ("to the death"), Kyrie's name was finally uttered. It wasn't quite what she'd expected, either. Why, Mr. Sir Yessir seemed... what? Relieved? So did the rest of the room, frankly. And she herself was glad for it. Stepping up in her usual ensemble, Eleison included, she held her hand out and smiled as politely as she possibly could. She still hated his guts, his breath, the ground he stepped on and most of all _him_, but she'd sure as hell shake his hand to assure she'd be getting far, far away from him. Graduating. With honors in weaponry and combat, she discovered as she opened it on her way back to the thumb wrestling finals. Whoo fucking hoo. It paid to have dates in the training grounds. That and learning how to pick the lock on the door when they grew sick of restocking the monsters.   
Taking her lead, Rodger ignored the rest of the room and opened his own. Wow, he'd gotten quite the excellent grade in algebra. How the hell did that happen? No matter; he had the diploma in his hand, and there was no way he was letting go of it. Out, they were _out_. They'd only to wait until the end of the day and it was official. Hell, it was official the moment the assembly ended. It wasn't as if either of them were eager to take part in the actual public ceremony, so why stick around an extra two days when they could get the hell out then?   
Of course, they still had to move out of the dorm. That wasn't a big deal. It'd take a couple of days to get the house ready and actually transfer their collected stuff, but at least they wouldn't have to be in class during those times. Living in that house again would be... weird. Especially without Seifer and Squall... but now wasn't the time to think about it. Now was the time to win the thumb wrestling death match all stars challenge of a lifetime.   
When all names were uttered that would be granted permission to move on, there were a couple of disgusted sighs. The Headmaster only assured them that another semester would somehow make them smarter and stronger, but most of them were already out of their seats and headed for the door by that point in time. Kyrie and Rodger in the lead, of course.   
Quistis met them just outside in a faculty hallway, away from the student mob that was making so much noise that it was hard to think, let alone talk. She was leaning against the wall with a big, proud smile on her face, having heard everything.   
"We _graduate_!" Rodger said in amazement. "We made it."   
"And you know what that means." Kyrie attempted to lead her aunt into some sort of private party idea. Few things were more mind-blowing than watching Quistis drink everyone else to shame.   
The older woman maintained her elegant composure. "Lots of celebratory rockin'?"   
Kyrie and Rodger exchanged a shocked expression. Then she turned back to her aunt with a vibrant grin and stated, "You're such a classy lady, Quisty."   
"Damn straight!" she giggled. "I suppose you two will be going out tonight to celebrate?"   
"Possibly." Kyrie agreed. "And then we start moving the hell out of here."   
The instructor nodded. "Well, let me know if you need anything."   
"Not another crate for quite some time, thanks." Rodger could help but break up a little at the end of that sentence.   


What was really great, regardless of being quite lazy and meaningless, was just laying there like lumps on the dorm bed, watching television on the same computer screen that Kyrie had originally hooked up. Technically Rodger still lived in the other dorm with his roommate. But he hadn't even seen that guy in well over a year, let alone kept any of his things in there. Life was good when everyone was just a little afraid of you.   
"Let's take the Jet to Esthar tonight." Kyrie suggested after a particularly awful soap opera. "I want to tell everyone before they hear it from... well, the rest of the world. Then we can eat."   
"Okay." Rodger agreed eagerly. "I like the Jet."   
"You like the lingerie store that took over Cloud's old shop, is what you like." She teased. He just stared at her for a period of time in suggestive silence. "Alright. Me too."   
"At least _I_ don't spend money there." He threw back.   
"That's right." She agreed seriously. "You make a _lot_ of suggestions, though."   
Rodger let a smug grin cross his face. "Aw, you just want to see _Mr. Valentine_." He spoke the man's name breathily.   
"Vinnie." She corrected in good humor.   
"But you _like_ to call him Mr. Valentine." He continued to tease.   
"I'd like to call him a lot of things." She grinned.   
Oh, this was getting raunchy. "Like... 'Master'? Or maybe 'slut'?" He winked at her.   
"Little bit of both, lovely." She couldn't even pretend to be shocked. This was too amusing. "'Bitch' is still yours, though. Always will be."   
"I feel loved." He responded, getting his things together. Hell, they may as well leave right away. Why wait? Thanks to the new Jet train, they could make it there in about twenty to thirty minutes depending on the weight of the passengers. The past four years had seen quite a growth in business on Esthar, let alone in the city itself. So if Laguna or Vincent were actually busy, they could wander around without getting the least bit bored until they were available to bother. Hell, maybe they could even convince Kiros to wander around with them before he finally had a nervous breakdown. They'd tried before, without success. Either way, it might be fun to watch.   


With a Jet leaving for Esthar every hour, they arrived right on time to catch the early evening shuttle. Not too shabby for having taken their sweet time in getting there. They even lucked out with an almost empty train, meaning a faster arrival time. With all of this luck, they were starting to get nervous that something was going to go horribly wrong with the train.   
Strangely enough, they arrived safe and sound at Esthar Station to the sounds of some already celebrating students wandering around. It was obvious most of them had been to the station's bar on the other end. They gave the drunks a wide berth, making their way down the other end and to the Presidential Estate.   
Kyrie didn't even bother presenting her card anymore. The guards knew who she was. If it wasn't obvious enough by Griever around her neck, they were quite sure to see Eleison at her side. It was like being known without being famous. And she found she didn't mind so much. She was neither the hero nor the villain; she just was.   
By now, even Rodger had learned his way around in the great and fantastic maze of hallways. It took quite some time and effort, but he had been able to memorize most of it. Besides, he was sure that if he ever got lost, he could just start screaming. Someone was bound to hear him.   
Up lifts, down hallways, darting between "paper boys" that were hired over Garden break to aid in the paper work--it was much less like a maze and more like a sadistic sport. Seemed people were actually being put to use around here for once. It was rarely a busy place.   
As expected, they ran into Kiros in the hallway right in front of Laguna's office, in the middle of a dozen or so tasks. He looked a bit surprised rather than stressed or annoyed (a rare occurrence to have any other sort of look to give), and actually took the time to greet them. "Ms. Leonhart, Mr. Kinneas. You two weren't expected."   
"Hence this being referred to as a surprise visit." Kyrie joked. Every time she looked at him she could just _feel_ his heartbeat going at light speed with all of the things he put upon himself. If that man didn't sit down and relax soon, or at least get a decent night of sleep--   
"I'm afraid I must get some more paperwork done for a visit from the Trabia government." He sliced off her thoughts instantly, already beginning to walk off down the hall.   
"I'm changing my pool decision to heart attack." She whispered.   
Rodger gave her an amused look. "I'm still convinced it'll be bleeding to death by paper cuts."   
"Think we ought to tell him that even Laguna is in on his death pool?" she pondered out loud, turning to knock on the office door.   
"Some day." He agreed. "Just let me put money on death by broken heart, first."   
Instantly as the door opened, Laguna's voice enveloped them. "Kiros, for Hyne's sake will you just calm the f--oh! Kyrie! Rodger! Come in!" He stood up from his piles of paperwork instantly and held his arms out.   
It wasn't as if he didn't see them just a week earlier; and a week before that, and so on. But Laguna had a way of making them feel like the most welcomed visitors he ever had. And, frankly, Kyrie didn't really mind. Free coffee, a number of pastry treats and some interesting conversation were always sure to come of a visit to the estate. She walked up and gave him a hug, feeling the familiar creaking of her spine and ribs at his monstrous squeeze.   
"You too, Rodger." Laguna joked, holding his arms even wider.   
"No thanks, Sir." He put his hands up in defense. "I'd rather not have my back popped again. Twice in a row."   
The president made a dismissing gesture. "None of this 'Sir' stuff. Just Laguna, you know that."   
"Yeah. I do, Sir." Rodger grinned, taking a seat.   
Laguna put his hands on his hips and regarded the two of them. "Well, don't keep me in suspense."   
"We made it." Kyrie announced proudly.   
"Excellent!" Laguna clapped his hands together, causing a few of the papers to scatter to the floor. He stared at them, hands on his hips, shaking his head. "All the technology in the world and we still need to keep paper files."   
"Work to do, Sir?" Rodger teased.   
"I'm afraid so." The president sat back down at his desk, measuring the piles of paper with his eyes. "And this is going to take a bit. It's just for the visit, though. I'm sure Vincent is in need of some entertainment..."   
Kyrie caught Rodger's almost lewd glimpse, but pretended not to have noticed. "I guess we'll go bug him for a while, then."   
"It was good to see you both, though!" Laguna assured. "I'm sure we'll see more of you two when you get moved into the house."   
"What? Once a week isn't enough?" his granddaughter joked.   
"Afraid not." Laguna admitted. He rose and walked around to hug her before she could take off without the sentiment. "But you two stop by on your way home, okay?"   
"No problem." Rodger assured, already on his way out the door.   
"Get back here!" the president joked. "I owe you two back breakers!"   
"Gotta catch me first!" Rodger called from halfway down the hall.   
"You'll just have to do it for me." Laguna winked at his granddaughter.   
"Back breakers. Gotcha." She didn't dare comment any further on that point. "We'll be back."   


Finding Vincent's office was even more of a mind-twisting experience. It was a lot easier to get there from Laguna's office than it was from the entrance, but they still seemed to get lost from time to time. It was sad, really, that they hadn't learned all of the turns by now. Maybe it was even more sad that they were building yet another edition onto the estate for yet more paper filing purposes. At least seeing the construction area gave them an indication of where they were.   
After a count of how many water coolers they'd passed, they were finally quite sure that they'd found the proper office. Kyrie knocked, knowing that that seemed to be more her style than anyone else's. With no response, she buzzed. Still nothing. She and Rodger looked at one another, wondering if they'd gotten lost again, when she felt a heavy, cold **_WHUMP_**.   
After the initial start, Kyrie turned with a laugh. "Dammit, Vincent, I'll never get used to that."   
He only grinned, taking his cold metal claw off of the side of her neck. All of that silent stalking and assassin edge from years passed put to good use, eh?   
Rodger kept his mouth shut about certain details, as he always did around Mr. Valentine. It was later that he'd get his fair chance to tease. "Slow day?" he inquired.   
Vincent opened the office door with a touch of the keypad, motioning them in before him. "Not really. But one does need entertainment from time to time. Unfortunately, the two of you came along."   
Kyrie pretended to be hurt by that comment. Vincent had been working for her grandfather almost ever since she'd introduced them, head of an intelligence office doing mostly training for field work. He'd since cut his hair and gained a bit of color and... emotion, actually. Snappy dresser and attractive personality... once you got past the cold stares (Kyrie, of course, could toss them back without a second thought). He really seemed to enjoy the work. It gave him something to do with a good amount of privacy.   
"Well?" Vincent inquired, as if he needed to ask.   
"We, are, graduating." She responded triumphantly.   
He sat back in his desk chair, his eyes bright with a smile. "I thought as much." He admitted wryly. "Seems that was good money spent."   
Kyrie smirked at the joke. She'd grown to appreciate the man more and more. Even though he often got quite a few sharply edged jokes in on her. Lucky it was a friendly competition.   
"No faith in us at all." Rodger sighed, pretending to be heartbroken.   
"What, no gift?" Kyrie joked.   
"Of course not." Vincent responded seriously, sitting forward and leaning the slender fingers of his right hand against the metal ones of his left. "You're both living in sin. You ought to be ashamed."   
The couple looked at one another for a moment. Rodger's laugh ultimately broke their eye contact. "If that's not the worst kind of pressure..."   
Vincent grinned like a shark. _Just trying to be helpful._ "I do hate to inform you two that I've got quite a bit of work to catch up on before the Trabia visit..."   
"Laguna got rid of us, too." Kyrie faked a sob.   
"At least someone appreciates you." The man indicated Rodger with a subtle tap of a clawed finger on the desk.   
"Who?" the indicated boyfriend asked.   
"Damned if I know." Vincent grinned. "But shall I assume I will see the two of you after the storm of filing and paper has passed?"   
"Not after _that_." Kyrie joked, crossing her arms.   
"Suit yourself." The former Turk invited.   
"Ah, but that makes it far too easy on you." She used a slightly threatening tone. "Maybe I should get a _job_ here."   
"You are welcome to." Vincent said seriously. "But only if it's on the other side of the building."   
"You are a cold, cruel man." She grinned.   
"Then get out." Vincent joked, pointing toward the door. "And don't bother coming back until the stars have _exploded_."   
"Alright." She agreed, getting up and walking out.   
Rodger just shook his head, trying to stifle a chuckle. He knew too much to begin with, but this was just funny either way.   
"And Kyrie, Rodger." Vincent called. "Take care."   
"You, too." She gave him a middle finger of appreciation and ducked out into the hallway.   
"And I thought our relationship was fucked up to the vast majority of the world." Rodger joked when they were well out of range.   
"Yeah." She agreed. "But you and me, we don't have the same kind of sexual tension."   
He laughed. And laughed. And had to stop walking and lean against the wall for a moment as he continued to laugh.   
"Now that just hurts." Kyrie nudged him, feeling his laughter spread like a disease.   
After the bout of insanity was finally over (and several of the guards had come to see what all the noise was about), the two of them heard Rodger's stomach growl. It was actually likely that the sound could be heard through the walls. Once or twice a week, they escaped Garden for _food_. Now it was time to fill up.   
"Oh, cafeteria visit." She commented happily.   
"I'm not sure we can find our way there." He was still giggling, wiping tears away from his eyes. "Sexual tension." He repeated before falling into another round of chuckles.   
"You heard me." She teased, making an attempt to lead the way.   


The cafeteria in the Presidential Estate was one hell of a fantastic departure from the one at Garden. Firstly, there were several little restaurants off to the side, each with their own inside and outside eating lounges. Then there was the central area, where you could take something from the restaurants to eat, or get something delivered to your table from that day's regular menu. Such a nice place, with nice food. Today, it seemed, most people were busy with the paperwork. There were a few full tables, but for the most part the place was really abandoned.   
As they entered, there was a man off to the side that caught Kyrie's eye. Probably because he had been looking at her with an expression of recognition. In the space of all of two seconds, she went through her mind to place him as a threat or enemy, but came up with nothing. He looked friendly enough, and he was already in the process of walking over. Well, what the hell. New people were always welcomed. Until they said something stupid or fucked up in some way.   
"Miss Leonhart." The man greeted warmly, holding his hand out.   
There was something distantly familiar about this man. From an old photo, maybe? He was about her parents' age. She reached out and shook his hand, noticing an officer's pilot badge on his uniform. "Sir?"   
He smiled, nodding slightly. "I'm Nida Matsuro. I attended Garden with your parents," he nodded to Rodger, "And served under Squall Leonhart during the war."   
Her eyes lit, recalling the name. She'd heard about him, as well as seen some pictures. "You flew Balamb Garden."   
He nodded again, the smile growing even wider. "Ah, so you've heard of me." He chuckled quietly. "I thought, since I was grounded here for the time being, I would come by and congratulate you on graduating. And offer my condolences. But that's somewhat depressing, don't you think?"   
She thought she could get along with this guy. "Most definitely. Do you have time to get a bite to eat?" she invited, genuinely interested in a little more conversation.   
Nida simply beamed at the suggestion. "I would love to. That is, if Mr. Kinneas wouldn't mind."   
Oh, would he _ever_ be teasing Kyrie about this later. But for now, he would remain his polite, charming self. The self she insisted he didn't show her anymore. "I don't mind at all. It would be nice to have someone else agreeing with us about... anything."   
"Yeah, just smile and nod your head, and everything will be alright." Kyrie joked.   
The pilot smiled in good humor. "I'm very good at that by now." He indicated the table right next to them that, by sheer coincidence, was a three-seater.   
Kyrie sat to the man's right, and Rodger's left. "How did you know we graduated?"   
Nida smiled shyly and pointed to the announcement panel at the other end of the cafeteria. The three of them just caught the end of one of the repeating messages "from the office of the President": "**Kyrie Leonhart and Rodger Kinneas graduate from Garden! Congratulations, kids!**" A bunch of happy flashing smilie faces followed before the next message flashed across.   
"Well." She commented. "Word travels fast here."   
"It sure does." Their usual waitress giggled, walking over. She was a sweet woman, polite. Not quite "one of their kind" but accepting all the same. "Congrads, you two."   
"_Thank you, Liz_." Rodger greeted in a flirtatious manner, as he always did. She was at least twice her age, but that's where the joke came from.   
She gave him a smirk and took out a note pad. "Okay, what will it be?"   
"Usual." Kyrie responded.   
"Me, too." Rodger added.   
"Whatever they're having is alright with me." Nida decided. There were few things that were even close to as bad as some of the stuff he'd had to eat at various bases from time to time. As long as it wasn't rations, he didn't care what it was.   
"Just a minute, then." Liz nodded and bounded back to the counter.   
"So you escape the Garden cafeteria often enough to know the waitress." Nida commented, knowing the feeling.   
"The food has not improved." Rodger stated dryly. "It may have gotten worse over the years."   
"It may be the same food." Kyrie suggested with a shudder.   
"Here comes the annoying question." Nida warned, sitting back and getting comfortable. "What do you two plan on doing now?"   
They looked at one another for a moment before Rodger answered, "Sleeping in for about a week. Then we'll see what happens."   
The pilot laughed at that. "Big plans, then."   
"Well, now, we'll be making our own meals from then on." Kyrie added. "Or at least that's the plan."   
"Oh. Do either of you cook?" he glanced three heaping plates of burgers and fries being carried out toward them. It was enough to make his stomach growl for the first time in weeks.   
"Well, no." Kyrie admitted. "But the house has fire insurance, just in case."   
Nida chuckled. "That is important."   
Liz presented the plates carefully so as not to spill any of the french fry mountains. "Back with the sodas. Do you want a soda, Mr...?"   
"Matsuro." He smiled kindly. "Sure."   
"Ketchup? Salt?" she inquired.   
"Nah. After weeks of military fodder, I'd just like to have something that doesn't taste like lettuce. This is fine."   
The waitress nodded and sped off again. In the back of her mind, she worried. Two of them could be confusing enough. But three?   
"So you're in a similar food situation." Rodger grinned, checking under the bread. Once in a while he'd get pickles. It was a random thing, and he didn't mind either way, but... it was odd.   
"Really, don't remind me." Nida joked. "Garden was nothing compared to a military base. Especially in the pilot's quarters. I guess they want you to stay as light as possible or something."   
"Then dig in, Mr. Matsuro." Kyrie invited.   
He gladly did so. Hell, he could barely acknowledge the waitress as she came back with the drinks. It was _so good_ to eat real food again. Real _meat_. And fried foods. And sugary, caffeinated, ice cold beverages. Heaven. He was still filling up on fries when he caught a glimpse of the announcement panel again, then glanced at his watch. "I really am sorry to be rude about this," he apologized, "But I'm all of a sudden late for take-off."   
"I'm sure we'll see you around." Kyrie grinned. "Best burgers in Esthar. And Trabia, for that matter."   
"Yeah, don't worry about it." Rodger agreed. "The fact you sat with us willingly says a lot."   
Nida laughed so hard he had to cover his mouth for a moment to keep it from echoing across the cafeteria. "Well, thank you both for the company, and good luck. Let me take care of this." He dug into his pocket for a handful of Gil.   
"Oh, we can't--"   
"Yes you can." He cut Kyrie off politely. "Graduation present from a friend of the family." He gave them both a warm smile and paused only to bow and wave before rushing off. Hopefully no one was waiting for his landing spot.   
"What is it with you and the cute guys?" Rodger teased instantly.   
She pretended to be serious about the middle finger she gave him. "With fame comes opportunity."   
"Yeah." He rolled his eyes, "subtly" putting an arm over her shoulder and drawing her closer. "Same goes for me."   
She scoffed. "With fame comes _you_? I think not." She grinned, snatching a fry from his plate. 


	2. Chapter 2

"Retribution Nor Redemption" and the general overall concept of "Retribution Nor Redemption" is completely copyright Orin Drake 2002, as are the characters Kyrie Leonhart and Rodger Kinneas. The characters Seifer Almasy, Squall Leonhart, Quistis Trepe, Ellone (Leonhart?), Laguna Loire and Rinoa "The Great Big Bitch" Heartily (biased? me?) are copyright Squaresoft, as are the terms SeeD, gunblade, Trabia Garden, Griever, and probably a lot of other stuff I forgot to mention. Hell, if you played the game, you know. Enough said.   
Background: Well. Here is the "anticipated" sequel to The Sins of Two Fathers. This won't be as much action as it will be psychological warfare, I think. Don't know what else to tell you. Beware bad language, sexuality and social outcasts having fun regardless of their status at the expense of others.   
  
  


Retribution Nor Redemption   
Chapter 2   
by Orin Drake 

From dawn it seemed like they had been cleaning the house. Not that it was terribly dirty or in shambles or anything, but if they were going to move into it, they would simply need it to be clean and rearranged.   
Dusting sucked. Kyrie hated it, but she'd lost the draw. At least that meant Rodger had to vacuum afterward. Of course, she still had to do the laundry. Oh the joys of having a house. Granted, it was about a thousand times better than living in a Garden dorm. But, still. First of all, they could play music as loudly as they pleased. Secondly--well, there were lots of possibilities. And they had instant furniture, since very little had been gotten rid of since "way back when".   
That was the truly difficult part of moving in. They went through Seifer and Squall's stuff (hell, Rodger was family, it was okay) first, trying to decide what to keep and what was just junk. Strangely, there seemed to be very little junk. Not that the two of them hadn't collected their share of odds and ends over the years, but... most of it was surprisingly useful. Or funny, or classy looking. Must have been the military upbringing and slightly minimalist sense. Or something.   
It was just a touch heart wrenching to go through the closets, most of all. The things left out in the open was stuff for anyone to see. The things hidden behind doors and buried in drawers, though... they tended to be a bit more personal. Photographs, love letters, birthday cards; and a chest of... uh... "play things".   
That was a grateful find, actually. After all of the other emotional upheaval, finding that made them both laugh themselves stupid. Dusting didn't seem like such a chore after that good of a humorous blunt trauma to the head. Not even laundry seemed like that much of a big deal, though they still debated whether to keep the French maid outfit.   
It was bittersweet, though. The total rearranging of her childhood home was both a little disorienting and exciting. It'd be _theirs_, now. Well, technically it was only in her name, but she'd get that changed eventually. The legal crap would take a while and would likely be a bothersome experience.   
It was kind of odd to think about how life seemed to have shifted from a secluded feeling of loneliness to one of... well, family and friendships. When they'd left Esthar shortly after a little shopping spree for the "new place" the night before, Laguna had offered all of the help he could give. Vincent told her she'd have to pay him for his time (but it was still an offer). When they'd arrived back at Garden for the last official night, Quistis had dropped off a small package with a note, also offering to help. Of course, the package contained a set of black satin sheets. Hyne bless that woman.   
Kyrie was in the middle of dressing the bed with said sheets when she heard Rodger ask, from behind her, "What do you think?"   
Well, there was obviously only one thing to do in that situation. She turned around and looked--and put a hand firmly over her mouth. She was utterly _determined_ not to laugh. She couldn't help it, though. She giggled all the while, trying very hard not to. "Well, it fits."   
He pulled at the skirt of the French maid outfit, looking at his bare knees. "I don't know. It doesn't go down very far."   
She continued to stare, trying in desperation not to guffaw her ass off through her hand. But there was no way to hold that one back. "Go change. Go change right now before I get the camera."   
"But can you imagine the guy at the photo developer?" he made a very over-feminine turn to admire himself in the mirror of the open closet door.   
She slowly wiped the tears of laughter away with the palms of her hands, her throat and stomach already hurting. "Oh Hyne. I'd love to see their face when we go to pick the photographs up."   
Rodger finally began chuckling, seeing what he looked like in the mirror. It was surreal, frankly. Never in a million years... "I don't have the legs for this skirt."   
Kyrie's expression turned devious. She walked up behind him and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, looking at their reflections. "Oh, you have the legs. You just have to shave them." She grinned at his mirror image. "Who's my pretty bitch?"   
They both erupted in laughter, leaning against one another just to keep themselves upright. It became instantly no wonder why they didn't keep a lot of friendships.   
"You had better get a shower and change." She mussed his hair gently with her fingertips.   
"What about a photograph?" he tried to sound offended.   
"It's damn tempting." She admitted. "But just imagine the headlines. I don't want this getting back to Laguna, being the obvious public figure and all. What goes on in the fucked up family stays in the fucked up family." She grinned at that marvelously simple expression.   
"True." He got the picture. He'd gotten it long ago, in fact. "What ever would you do without me?"   
"Be very bored." She responded honestly. "Speaking of, I better check on Cloud while you're in the shower."   
"He'll be thrilled with your continued cruelty." He quipped, throwing imagined long hair over his shoulder and strutting out.   
Kyrie smirked as he walked out, going back to putting the sheets on the bed. When that and the blankets were suitably arranged (the black went well with the newly purchased dark crimson/maroon bedspread), she strolled across the hallway to where they'd moved the computer. Placing her handy little device in the drive, she connected and waited for the response.   
**You summoned?** came on screen.   
**Oh, I feel special.** She commented.   
**I'll work on that.** Cloud joked. **Moved in yet?**   
**More or less.** She looked around the room at a few boxes, but otherwise things were pretty much arranged. **There's still a little to do, but it feels more... homey.**   
** I wish I could decorate this place.** He complained. **Or something.**   
** You have a computer.** She reassured him. **You can play video games at whim.**   
** But when you're as much of a master player as I am...**   
** A master what?** She joked.   
**Ha ha.**   
She had the feeling that such a reaction wasn't entirely consistent with reality, and grinned. **And have you been keeping nice and busy as usual?**   
**Well of course. Reports about auto accidents are kind of interesting. Oh, and they discovered a new galaxy today.** He informed her.   
**Really?** She typed back.** I hadn't even heard about that.**   
**There's not supposed to be a formal announcement until next week. I just got hold of some records "accidentally".**   
Kyrie found amusement in that.** Now there's a great way to keep busy. Cloud Strife, Super Hacker esq., formerly of Big-Ass Sword Inc. Do you know any specifics?**   
**SMARTASS. ** The screen commented in huge letters.** Not really. Just that a couple of them seem to contain the basic beginnings of life. But what kind and if it's really true haven't been revealed yet. How's Vincent by the way?**   
She thought that question through for a moment. ** Not like he came out of a coffin at all.**   
** Ha ha. Still acting like a normal human being?**   
**As much as can be expected. ** She snickered to herself. ** Laguna just loves having him around. Don't really know why. He's so calm all the time. You wouldn't think they'd get along.**   
**Still wearing the short haircut? **he couldn't help but ask. Morbid curiosity; he'd never seen Vincent with short hair. And he knew for certain that there'd be no way to get him to pose for a photograph, so he wasn't sure he'd ever see it.   
**Oh yes. Quite stylish. Probably easier to manage that way.**   
** It he getting all the chicks?** The thought was somehow very laughable.   
**I think they're all a little intimidated by the claw.** She joked.   
**Understandable.** He left it at that. **Any plans for a house warming party?**   
** You just want a live video feed of Quistis drinking everyone else to shame.** She teased, laughing at the mental picture of that event. **It is fun to watch, though. We might have a "party" of sorts. It's hard to crash your own party, though.**   
** I'd help if I could.** He offered all too sincerely.   
She heard the distinct squeak of the shower shutting off, then checked the time. It certainly wouldn't hurt to start getting ready early. **Gotta get going, Cloud. Meeting with Selphie and Irvine for dinner. This is going to be weird.**   
**Good luck. ** He wished her. Then, in larger, italicized text, he made a "helpful suggestion": **_Small bites._**   
**Screw you, Strife. ** She typed with a laugh and logged off.   


Irvine had made contact with Selphie only about a month earlier, to plan this particular get-together. Exactly _why_ wasn't clear yet. And Rodger sure as hell didn't know what to think. But tonight they were all going to dinner together to... do whatever it was they were supposed to do. It was a slightly uncomfortable thought for all of them. He and Kyrie would be arriving together, of course, but Selphie and Irvine would be arriving separately. And even then there was no guarantee the dinner conversation would be tolerable. It was just... a weird situation.   
Kyrie walked by him on her way to getting ready, staring at himself in the bathroom mirror. She instantly braked and backed up, sensing his torment. "Yes?"   
He shook his head, staring straight into the mirror. "I don't know what I'm expected to wear. Mom said 'casual'. I don't know if I know what the hell 'casual' is."   
"It means not too terribly slobbish." She tried to break the mood just a little. "Just, uh... don't wear anything faded or with holes in it. That'll work."   
He looked over to her, gently blowing the bangs out of his face. "Do I have anything like that?"   
"I don't know." She admitted. "But if you don't, I bet Vincent will."   
Rodger felt one of those "moods" coming on--the occurrence before the shower certainly didn't help matters. And the "mood" was an awful thing, too; right before meeting his parents. He really ought to have more control than that. "Yeah, you'd like to see me in one of those suits."   
Kyrie grinned and just kept walking past and to the bedroom, taking her leave of the situation. Tempting though it was, they did _not_ want to be late. They might have time, but they might _not_.   
Feeling a little more at ease, he continued calling, "I bet you'd like to see us both in _and_ out of those suits."   
Oh that did it. Familiar heat tingled through her. "Shut up, Rodger." She half joked, digging in the closet for something "casual" for him to wear. When she turned around with a proper selection in hand, she was met with her wet, naked boyfriend's devious smile, his eyes glittering through wet strands of hair. She paused for just a second, then put the selection back into the closet for safe keeping. What the hell? The ball was already rolling, may as well not stop it now.   
Rodger said nothing. He really didn't need to. Just smiled that awesome, vicious little smile that seemed to so captivate her, and jerked his head over toward the recently made bed. Had to start somewhere, right?   
She sighed and pretended to be disgusted--then bounded on over. In a very dramatic gesture, she simply placed her forearm over her eyes and made a show of collapsing onto the bed, flat on her back.   
Well, that was far from a deterrent. He leapt after her, jumping atop her clothed body and continued those evil thoughts. When she finally glanced at him from under her arm, he mimicked Vincent's accent as perfectly as he could. "Oh, Kyrie. I've wanted this for so long..."   
She gave him a look that alone may have toppled him off of her had he not been so ready for it. But that broke swiftly into a savagely evil smile. "This is so wrong, you know. In so many ways."   
He continued the accent as he leaned in to lower his voice. "I know. But I don't care." He accented the last word with slowly sliding a hand under the back of her shirt.   
She moaned as she felt herself give in completely. "Is the front door locked?"   
Pseudo-Vincent nodded. "Now look into my red, red eyes and let me show you what this claw can do."   
"Sicko." She joked, completely diving in as she unbuttoned her shirt.   
"Not I, my dear." He worked the accent as well as he could under the circumstances. Even he'd begun to wonder what Vincent sounded like when he was aroused. Interesting thought. He crawled off of her to let her actually get her clothes off, leaving her just long enough to grab one of Quistis's contributions from the closet. Noting his partner was only naked from the waist up when he turned back around, he began giving her aid. "I cannot fuck you with your pants on!"   
She laughed, eager for this role play to continue. Rodger knew how to work it just right. It was beyond amazing that she'd found someone she could tell all of her secrets to; obviously including her sexual attractions. The two of them had grown immensely together in all senses, not just sexually... but that's the part that seemed to most matter at the moment. They discovered things from various sources over the years, and were willing to try anything once (or twice, just to be sure). And, of course, sometimes "only once" turned into a normal occurrence. This, for instance.   
As he was turning back from flinging her pants across the room (as was his habit, since he got a kick out of watching her find her clothes afterwards), he was _pounced_. He slid across the bedspread a little on his back, finding himself pinned. "I knew me in a skirt would get to you."   
"Sexy bitch." She grinned. "Vincent in a skirt though, hmmm..."   
"I bet he's got the legs, too."   
"I certainly wouldn't mind finding out."   
He made a disgusted noise and started to kiss the side of her neck, running his hands lightly over her shoulders, then curving around to lightly grasp her breasts. The accent was back in full force. "You can find out later. Sex, now."   
"Okay, just get goin', here." She grinned, grinding on top of him.   
"What about foreplay?" he pretended to be hurt.   
"Oh, you know I don't need no stinkin' foreplay. Just fuck me, Vinnie!" she laughed, rolling and pulling him on top of her.   
He broke character for just another moment. "You little slut, you."   
Kyrie feigned surprise. "Hey, where'd Vincent go?"   
Rodger just shook his head with the return of that viciously insane expression and got back into the spirit of things. "I'll have no boyfriend of yours try to break us up."   
"Me either." She agreed, lightly scraping her fingernails against his spine. "He just thinks he can get away with everything."   
"We're not that different from one another, then." He grinned, pulling back. The practiced motion of unwrapping the condom and placing it on correctly took mere seconds anymore, and he tossed the wrapper aside as he slid back on top of her body. "What's the magic word?"   
"_Now._"   
"Good girl." He whispered, settling properly. He supported himself and waited for her to set the pace--at first. Seated and settling, he began with a few slow, shallow motions.   
"Funny." She commented with a moan. "You kind of fuck like my boyfriend..."   
Had her eyes been open, she'd have seen his smirk. "Picky, picky." He switched instead to a deeper, faster rhythm. He was careful to keep it controlled, knowing it would hurt at first.   
And she made sure he knew, dragging lines into his back with her fingernails; not enough to draw blood, but certainly enough. It didn't take long for the pain to flow like an ocean current into pleasure-pain, though, and she caught up to the rhythm quickly. He was obviously a wonder in himself; he could get her to shut up quite easily if he really tried. Well, almost. "So show me, that claw, Vinnie."   
He grinned and slipped his arm around her, holding her closer and using it to lean against at the same time. Hey, if she wanted it... He dug deep with his own fingernails, drawing bleeding cat scratches across her shoulders, her back, her ass--anywhere he could reach. Hell, she healed fast. Good thing they'd opted for a red bedspread.   
Each deep trench enticed a hiss and a harder thrust. And, every once in a while, an answering scratch. Their rhythm became increasingly erratic and more purely instinctual as the end neared--until the phone on the bedside table rang.   
Kyrie gasped between thrusts, the rational part of her mind taking over for just a moment. "It's Vincent. I told him, to call, and make sure, we were leaving, now..."   
Rodger paused and pulled back just a little, a wicked look on his face. "You want to hear his _real_ voice?" He didn't wait for her to respond before he heard the answering machine's beep and thrust himself all the way back inside, clawing deeply into her left shoulder blade.   
His actions, along with the "real" Vincent having called her name on the machine ("Hello, Kyrie? Still there? I suppose I shall assume you already left..."), was too much. She dug her fingernails deep into both of Rodger's shoulders and cried out with one hell of an orgasm.   
He followed right after, the sudden wave of muscle contractions around him too much to hold on to. He collapsed on top of her, spent and exhausted, but laughing very hard. "Shit!" he panted. "You came before me!"   
She started chuckling with him, trying to catch her breath at the same time. "Hyne... We're su... pposed to meet... your parents in... twenty minutes..."   
"And we're all dirty!" Rodger giggled, gently lifting out and off of her.   
"In more ways than one!" she added, wiping the sweat from her forehead. "We can get a two minute shower and still have plenty of time. If you don't come up with any more great ideas."   
He only shrugged with the remnants of a satisfied grin all across his face. He knew now where sex fell in the order of his life; right before his parents.   


They'd gotten a taxi into the city, not having any idea exactly where this restaurant was located. Kyrie gave the guy a hundred extra Gil if he'd use the faster side streets. And boy did he, gladly. Instead of being ten minutes late (as they had calculated while they put their clothes back on), they'd actually wound up about five minutes early. Not bad, considering. They found Selphie right outside the doors of the restaurant as soon as they'd gotten out of the cab.   
"Hey, Ma." Rodger greeted, giving her a hug that she was well prepared for with wide arms.   
"Hello, Rodger!" She said warmly, giving him a squeeze. She then stepped forward to Kyrie and latched onto her before she had the chance to escape somehow. "And Kyrie!"   
"Hello, Selphie." The victim of another one of the her excited hugs murmured into her shoulder.   
The perky woman released with a wink. "Well, how are you two?"   
"Fantastic." Rodger responded. "We've graduated and moved out."   
His mother smiled widely. "I know the feeling! It felt great to escape that place! Not going to any of the ceremonies, I take it." Most parents might have had an air of disappointment in their voice. But Selphie was not quite that sort of parent. She'd learned long ago (and mostly from Squall, of all people) that you had to let people be themselves and do as they wanted from time to time, _without_ taking it personally.   
"Nah." Her son dismissed, watching as a large black taxi drove toward them. He got a twang of nervousness, knowing who that had to be, in the pit of his stomach. "You know, us and crowds."   
Selphie smiled. "I know, alright." She followed Rodger's line of vision to the taxi, taking a few mild breaths as it pulled up in front of them.   
Kyrie felt the tension clearly, and regarded the car with a distant glance. This would be... interesting.   
Movement from behind the tinted window; someone reaching forward to give the cabbie instructions. Selphie adjusted her skirt with delicate motions, finally getting a bit nervous herself. There was no reason to be, she knew that. But it had been a while. And him just calling out of the blue like this... But it appeared he didn't need any money. Maybe it would turn out alright if he didn't actually need anything from any of them.   
The door opened. Out stepped a man that hardly resembled what any of them had ever seen of Irvine. He still had the ponytail, but he was dressed head to toe in casual (but extremely well-to-do looking) attire. Black pants, navy blue dress shirt, black casual jacket, and black shoes that shone like they were bought moments ago.   
Rodger shot Kyrie a single, fast look. She knew all about the family's past, and was equally as surprised. This man did not appear to be either the lady killing sharp shooter, nor the increasingly violent, cheating drunk that he was described as at various points in time. He stepped out onto the sidewalk and took a very long, unmarked look at the three of them standing there.   
It was an interesting, though somewhat uncomfortable moment. He hadn't seen his father in... a long time; and he didn't care to do the math. But, Selphie didn't look so bad. Not thrilled, that much was clear. But not spiteful. Kyrie merely watched. This was not her battle.   
"Hey... Dad." The word sounded just a little foreign. It _felt_ foreign.   
Irvine seemed perhaps a little bit struck with that word, himself. Glad for it, but surprised. "Hello, Rodger." He started very quietly as though he were almost too afraid to speak at all. "You've let your hair grow, I see." It didn't quite seem the appropriate thing to say, especially considering how many years it had been, but... it was really all he could think of. His son had been the only one to greet him thus far.   
Kyrie didn't bother to comment that she had been partly responsible for that hair style. She loved that viciously shy/wicked look he gave her through those bangs. All he had to do was tip his head forward just a bit and--oooh. She immediately tried to maintain at least an air of polite dignity.   
"And you must be Kyrie." His voice continued to edge on the quiet, reserved side. That heavy Griever pendant was actually quite becoming of her. And that gunblade at her side, impressive. He wondered distantly if she were as much an expert in the weapon as her parents, touched with a razor edge of guilt at not knowing.   
"Mr. Kinneas." She greeted politely, holding out her hand.   
The old Irvine was most definitely still in there. It ran through his eyes and danced in every motion he made; he was still a flirt. He lightly took the outstretched hand and kissed the back of it. "Ms. Leonhart. Never thought I'd see the day."   
That could be taken a number of ways. Kyrie chose to take it in stride. No bad blood exchanged as of yet tonight. There was still plenty of time for the walls to be splattered with it, though. Her thin smile spoke volumes to her longtime companion at her side.   
Irvine released her hand and looked toward his former wife. She shifted uncomfortably, but there was a polite smile on her face. "Selphie. How are you?"   
For a moment, it appeared she would simply snub him. Truth be told, that's what she _felt_ like doing. But then she stepped forward and gave him a hug, short and stiff as it was. "I'm alright, Irvine. Doing quite well. You?"   
He pulled away to look at the three of them there before he responded. "Better. Things are better. But shouldn't we get inside before we start reminiscing?"   
Very interesting suggestion, so Kyrie thought. She wasn't exactly suspicious of him or anything, but she kept her ears perked. Selphie and Rodger had very much entered into what she considered family, and she would sure as hell look out for them.   
They traveled inside and through a darkened hallway, smelling the basic fragrances of a steak house. About this, Kyrie was elated; it was not the stuffy sort of place she had worried about. Just the opposite, it appeared. As they entered the actual restaurant, they found that it was full of well spaced booths of relatively normal looking people, all laughing, talking and having what appeared to be a good time. Good atmosphere, regardless of how the night was to end.   
Giving the waitress his name, Irvine scored a booth instantly. It was a corner one, far off to the side and an equal distance from the kitchen and the bathroom. Apparently he had made reservations.   
They sat and ordered drinks immediately; water for Selphie, house wine for Irvine, and cola for "the kids". And, amazingly, the waitress actually _smiled_ at them. Not a forced smile, but a perky kind of expression. Almost as if she had seen weirder than they, and that she didn't mind having them around for a short time. Kyrie and Rodger made fleeting eye contact, confirming that fact that they would revisit this place regardless of what the food was like.   
Well, now the conversation. Perhaps straight to the point would be a lot less painless. Point and shoot, so to speak. "Sorry to hear about Squall and Seifer." Irvine said quietly, but genuinely. They _had_ been his friends once, after all. He felt he just had to get the sentiment out in the open before anything else.   
Kyrie searched for something to say that wouldn't make her sound either insensitive or just plain stupid. She obviously couldn't really find a nice in-between. "Shit happens."   
Irvine grinned widely while Selphie cleared her throat. "Yeah, I can see both of your parents in there."   
The waitress returned with a tray, laying the drinks in front of everyone and a basket of rolls in the middle of the table. "Decided, yet?" she asked politely, taking out a pad of paper.   
It occurred to all of them just then that they hadn't even glanced at their menus, let alone acknowledged the kind of food that was available. But Kyrie knew what she wanted, anyway. "Filet minion. Still bleeding. French fries." It was worth a shot, right?   
She was elated when the waitress actually wrote that down, nodded, then moved on to Selphie. For a moment, the woman's hand hovered over the menu as if to take a peek, then dropped. "Oh, ditto. But medium, please."   
"Me, too." Rodger added.   
"What the hell." Irvine agreed, stacking their completely unused menus.   
"Well, you people are easy!" the waitress joked, taking the menus and wandering into the kitchen area.   
Kyrie's head swum with the possibilities of dessert. Hell, if they had one of her favorite meals, who knew what wonders the dessert menu held...   
"So... why now, Dad?" It was Rodger's turn to get an important subject out in the open. Hell, they were in a nice place with what sounded like nice food. That was sufficient to soothe the sting.   
Irvine looked a little uncomfortable with that question, as Rodger seemed to have intended. His son definitely wanted to know _exactly_ why he'd chosen this time to get back to them, even if just to visit. He flipped his ponytail back over his shoulder and cleared his throat. "Well, honestly, I just wanted to make amends, kinda. I was sort of a lush for some time and, well... since I got sober, I just wanted to revisit the things I screwed up."   
Good answer, so Kyrie thought. She wondered how sincere it was, of course, but it was a good answer.   
Irvine lowered his voice, his tone utterly sincere. "And I'm sorry I'm unable to do the same with Seifer and Squall. I really owe them... a lot. And Zell..." His voice fell into a whisper.   
If she ought to say anything at all, Kyrie had absolutely no idea what should have been said. Zell... that was a sad thing. _Another_ sad thing. After she'd paid him a visit almost four years ago, he'd sobbed until he was dry and then promised to come see her. To see the house, their graves, make amends of his own. But the next day, she heard from Quistis of all people... that he'd gone out on the pier and shot himself that night. Clean to the head. No note, no anything. Obviously Irvine had heard. Few people hadn't, these days.   
And then about a week after Zell had blown his brains to fish food, she'd received a package. From him. At first she was almost scared to open it, wondering in the back of her mind if it wasn't some truly insane "gift" a voice in his head had told him to send to her. It would have been just her luck, after all. She opened it anyway, finding... a ring. No note, nothing else. Just a ring with a Griever symbol. It had completely freaked her out, so she'd shown it to Quistis. Apparently, years ago, Zell had taken the ring from Squall and made a copy; the copy of which he'd given to Rinoa. Why Zell had kept the original... well, all the speculation in the world wouldn't have been able to uncover the truth. But the fact Zell had so obviously sent it to her right before he killed himself... it was freaky. And, worse still, unexplained. She kept the ring in a little box under the bed for safe keeping--and memories. Painful reminder though it was, it would serve its purpose.   
She still felt she ought to say _something_ about Irvine's apology, even if it did turn out sounding stupid. But she couldn't. She just... didn't have anything to say about that. She'd been the last person to see Zell alive, so it seemed. He was shaken, clearly, but... he had seemed fine. So... just... fine. Funny how quickly life can change. She thought back just for an instant about having Squall fight by her side, and then...   
"That's... it's a good start, Dad." Rodger said quietly. He knew Kyrie enough to know her thought process. She needn't be placed in the center of nagging guilt at this point in time. That, and he was being honest. It was nice to see his father trying to start over, and he really wanted to believe it would turn out alright.   
"But I owe you a lot, too." Irvine had turned to Selphie, waiting for her to make eye contact. "Most of all, probably. You put up with me longer than anyone else did."   
"I'm not sure that was a good thing." She responded quietly. It wasn't a pointed comment, at least not in tone; they were her honest thoughts.   
"And I'm sorry, Selphie." He spoke in that same soft, sincere tone. "I am." He looked to his son, staring back with careful expression. "And I'm sorry I wasn't there for you, Rodger. I'll stay out of your lives, but... I want to try and make up for it. Any way I can."   
A silence fell, which was surprisingly not as uncomfortable as it was expected to be. To believe him or not, benefit of the doubt or the same stupid old mistake... Well, Selphie wouldn't be quick to let him into her home, let alone her life, ever again. Rodger was eager to know about his father, but... wasn't quick to want to be spending time with the old man. And Kyrie merely watched for any sort of signal that he was lying, or trying to get something out of them. Seeing none was almost unsettling to her. It might well mean he _was_ sincere. Only time would tell, though. They all understood that.   
The waitress was once again their rescue. She carried out a hug tray of four plates, each one decorated with a sprig of parsley and covered in meat and french fries; Kyrie's being the only one in a pool of red. "That all for now, folks?"   
It was a real smile Irvine gave her. "Yes, thanks."   
"Come back for dessert, though." Kyrie invited.   
The waitress gave another million Gil smile and agreed with a nod. With another glance to make sure all things were in order, she walked off with a little skip.   
Then the eating of the food commenced, thankfully shutting off most of the conversation for the time being. There were comments made on how wonderful the food was, jokes about Kyrie's meat moving, and creative things to do with dinner rolls and tooth picks. Mostly it seemed, dinner was about the food; especially since most of the sensitive issues had just been flung out into the open, then swept out of the way. It was... nice that way. Easier. Made the food taste better, without a bitter aftertaste.   
The waitress wandered back just in time to catch Kyrie in the act of turning one of the rolls into a short legged, large bodied ant with tooth picks and french fries. She had been working diligently, completely silently, while the rest of the table looked on, unnoticed, in silence. When the waitress began to laugh, she finally looked up to see all the eyes on her, and smiled herself with amusement. "Given time and supplies..." she dismissed quietly.   
"Well, congratulations." The waitress giggled. "There's something I know I've never seen before. And that deserves dessert." She laid the dessert menus in front of each of them. "I'll be back in a moment. With the manager. He's got to see this."   
"Ah, fame." Rodger grinned widely.   
Kyrie pretended to be too involved in finishing her masterpiece to hear him. Only after the last fry-leg was in place did she acknowledge his comment with a very subtle middle finger.   
Irvine rested his elbow on the table, chin in his hand, watching this exchange. He hadn't seen his son in so long... but damn it was nice to see him having a good time with this girl. For all intents and purposes, she seemed... "grounded", so to speak. Selphie seemed fond enough of her.   
As if on cue, the woman who suddenly felt a bit more at ease to allow for perkiness cleared her throat. "Alright, what is everyone getting?"   
"Oh, seven different kinds of cheesecakes..." Kyrie commented in euphoria. "I didn't even know there _were_ seven kinds."   
"Get a sampler." Rodger joked.   
"Remember when we used to share milkshakes?" Irvine somehow felt it alright to inquire.   
"Pft. 'Share' nothing." Selphie quipped, but in good humor.   
_Ah. Dessert, bringing out the best in people._ Kyrie didn't dare say that out loud. It was best not to question a good thing. "Pick a number between one and seven hundred million."   
Rodger looked up, smiling full-out. "Can't decide which cheesecake?"   
"There are _seven_." Selphie reiterated for her, then broke into giggles.   
"Exactly!" Kyrie added. "There are also three kinds of chocolate cakes."   
"Oh." Irvine commented, finding said items on the menu. "I wonder how they take to being asked for all three."   
"It's not as unusual as you'd think." Came a voice off to the side. Looking up, it was clearly the manager--and not just because of the flashy gold name tag with "Manager" on it. He walked up, regarding Kyrie's ever so ingenious sculpture the sat atop the bread basket. To all of their genuine shock, he smiled a little. Granted it was like someone smiling at a child for saying something stupid, but... hell, it was a smile. "Talent." He commented simply.   
"So I've been told." Kyrie attempted a polite joke. "I'll sell it to you."   
That got the reaction of a halfway real laugh. Again, it was like laughing at what a child was trying to make funny, but... well, hell. "If you sign it, you'll get your desserts for free. What do you say?"   
What an odd suggestion. She got the distinct impression that this guy was either an autograph whore, or he had something seriously wrong with him. One glance over to the bar area asserted her original impression--lots of signed pictures and the like. It wasn't as if she was a celebrity. It wasn't even as if he or anyone else around her would even care to eat in a place that she may or may not frequent in the future. But, free dessert. A very amusing sculpture it was clear few people would "get" and fewer would even think to look at. Hey, everyone wanted something. "Alright."   
Rodger cleared his throat to stifle a laugh. He knew her thought process as certainly as if it had gone through his own head to get to hers. They'd definitely eat there again. And bring people. And then she could point and tell them she did that, and they'd get that whole "I'm sorry, you must be retarded" smile on their face.   
But Kyrie didn't bother to hide the grin plastered on her face as she took the pen the manager offered and signed the side of the cold dinner roll with flourish. "_Kyrie Almasy Leonhart_". _Now let's see them put _that_ up front._   
The manager picked it up as though it were a child's treasured thing (treasured, but ultimately useless), and commenced taking the orders himself. "Alright, then. And everyone wants..?"   
Considering it was Kyrie's "work of art" that had gotten them this far, she went first. "Cherry cheesecake with a scoop of chocolate ice cream on the side, please."   
"Whoah." Rodger commented teasingly. "Want some mint with that?"   
"Okay." She agreed deadpan. "One chocolate, one mint."   
The manager twirled his pen, regarding these... odd, odd people. But, he wrote down the order anyway before moving to Selphie. "And you, ma'am?"   
"This 'old fashioned apple crisp' here, looks good..." she responded, folding her menu politely. All she had to do this evening was sit back and watch the entertainment unfold before her. It was kind of nice.   
"Sir?" the manager regarded Rodger.   
He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth once, looking the menu over one more time. Then he closed his eyes, pointed at a random place, and opened his eyes again. "Oh, ice cream mud pie."   
"Trabia style chocolate cake for me." Irvine said with assurance.   
The manager attempted another polite smile, then got the hell out of there. These people were weird. Possibly dangerous. Possibly going to multiply some day.   
"Think he'll be putting that behind glass?" Rodger asked his girlfriend.   
"Then right in the kitchen trash." She responded flatly. "But war enthusiasts might enjoy finding it some day, all half rotten and partially mummified with potato skins..."   
Irvine found himself smiling. She had the balls of Seifer and the overall outlook of Squall. "Do you get recognized often?"   
"If the dirty looks are any indication..." she answered, sitting back in her chair. "But then it gives great service." Her eyes darted to the side.   
On cue, the waitress from earlier carried a tray of desserts over to them with that same polite smile. She laid everyone's plates in front of them, then bowed slightly. "Anything else I can get you this evening?"   
With a quick glance at the others, Irvine shook his head. "That's fine, thanks." He pulled a card from his wallet and handed it to her, then leaned in a little. "Give yourself two hundred Gil for tip, hm?"   
The waitress covered her mouth, blushing a little. "Oh, Sir... I mean, I can't... are you sure?"   
"Perfectly." He answered with the shadow of his old flirty grin.   
When the waitress walked away from their table, all eyes were on him. It was actually Selphie that made the first move. "And what sort of business are you in these days?"   
"Investments. Banking." He waved the question away, picking up his fork. "I'm not high up or anything, but... I'm doing well now."   
Rodger and Kyrie had a split second glance at one another before they commenced with their desserts. It hadn't seemed to have been either a lie or a cover-up. So... well, good for him.   
"It's a far cry from a sniper." Irvine admitted with a laugh; but it was a little hollow. It sounded nearly regretful. "But it makes better money. And it's far less dangerous." He caught the eye of his former wife and gave her a more genuine smile. "And what are you up to?"   
She took a bite of apple crisp first, noting it was plenty warm enough for her to talk before the next bite. "Well, I was living off of Garden's war veteran pay until Rodger left home." She gave her son a little smile. "Then I was a receptionist for President Loire for a couple of years, and now it's been about seven months without a job. But now I think I'm plenty ready to get back into the work force. I'm not sure as what, but... I'll find something I'm suited for."   
Irvine nodded, glad to hear she'd been doing well. He looked to Rodger, almost startled to see his son's gaze had already been strong on him. He wasn't surprised, really; he supposed he'd have been just as critical of his own father, had he known him. "Any particular interests?"   
Nothing he could discuss at the dinner table. "Not... as of yet, really. I think I'll just take a break from having to get up every morning, and then... possibly work for Laguna."   
Kyrie read his quick glance, almost _hearing_ him speak Vincent's name in her head. Vicious little creature, he. She smiled, though, watching Irvine's gaze shift to her. "Same goes here. But something strategic might be nice."   
"How is Laguna these days?" Irvine asked sincerely, another piece of cake firmly on his fork. It was _good_ stuff.   
The cheesecake was _glorious_ as well; but she was forced to swallow. She'd later giggle at that thought. "Very well. Same old Laguna, I guess. But Kiros is gaining on some sort of mental malfunction due to stress, I think."   
"You want to get in on the death pool?" Selphie asked completely seriously.   
Irvine laughed, memories of the past flooding him. It'd been a long time. A long time since he'd seen anyone he used to care about. He found that he still cared a great deal. Obviously not enough to bring the days of old back (not that the idea was possible anyway), but... he felt a distant fondness for the whole experience. He never would have imagined.   
The waitress interrupted with another smile and a bow, thanking Mr. Kinneas for the tip and handing his card back. "And we enjoyed having all of you." She added, smiling and taking her leave.   
"Bullocks." Rodger joked under his breath.   
Seeing as how dessert was more or less done (or at least everyone was too full to do much more than make odd shapes with the remnants), Irvine sat back and regarded everyone. "Well... I have to say that I kind of hope this isn't the last time we do this."   
Selphie softly wiped her mouth with her napkin, wondering exactly what it was she ought to say. Truth be told, she wasn't sure. But, he hadn't asked for anything. He had paid, his card had been accepted. The kids probably would have indicated to her if they felt he was merely talking out of his ass, so... "You know, I think that would be nice."   
"Yeah." Rodger agreed quietly.   
Kyrie didn't feel it her place to agree or disagree. The man did appear sincere enough. At least in this meeting. She wasn't as concerned as she had been beforehand, and that was saying something.   
"I guess we ought to get going, then." Irvine suggested with nervous hope. "Before we get escorted out."   
They walked out together in the cooling night, lost in the background amongst the crowds of other people, walking through, wandering around. Somehow that was preferable to being solitary in this time and place. Irvine pulled out a cell phone and called for his driver, then said his good-byes. Selphie gave him a bit of a longer hug this time, feeling more assured that things might just be alright after all. Rodger gave him a hand shake; no hugs, not yet. Not until he was certain. Kyrie got a simple hand shake this time as well, but a genuine smile from the man. He said he was glad to meet her. Whether that was true or not would undoubtedly remain to be seen.   
The black cab pulled up around front again, and Irvine made another round of good-byes and promises that this would happen again soon. He turned and waved as he opened the door, then got in and was swept away.   
The three remaining just stood there, watching. Rodger finally broke the silence; "That was weird."   
Selphie nodded. "For me, too." She watched the place where the taxi had disappeared into the distance, reflecting on the whole experience. "He's... so different."   
"Is it a good thing?" Kyrie asked softly.   
"I hope so." She responded truthfully. "Well, you two, I'm full. So I'm going home."   


They saw Selphie to the train station, she being absolutely insistent that they not follow her home. It would have been nice to have them over after all of that, but she knew they needed some time on their own to adjust to their new environment, so to speak. Then she could invite them over all the time.   
They stayed with her as she waited and waved until the train was out of sight. Only then did Kyrie note the time. "Wow, it's still early. Just a little past 8:30."   
Rodger was amazed "Really? Early dinners are... weird." But then, to them, being awake during daylight was a little weird.   
"Well, then. Any ideas on how to spend the rest of our evening?" she grinned deviously.   
_Ding!_ The idea of ideas entered his head. "Let's see if we can get Quistis drunk."   
"You know that's impossible. But fun to try. Again." They started making their way over to the Jet back to Trabia.   
"Hey, wait. Should Laguna be joining us?" he wondered out loud. The guy had been buried in work for the last couple of days, after all. He might like a little unannounced trek out.   
Kyrie laughed with the picture. "Not after last time. Vincent will kill me."   
He chuckled wickedly. "Yeah, but what a way to g--"   
"Shut up, dear." She interrupted, grinning. "One thing I have to do before we leave..."   


Catching the next Jet, the two of them actually made it inside Trabia Garden at about 9:30. There was, of course, no assurance that Quistis hadn't gone home yet. But, being witness to her work habits personally, the two of them had decided to try her office first.   
Sure enough, the first thing they heard on the communications panel was a yawn. "Yes?"   
"Two poor, bored children to see you." Kyrie responded.   
The door opened instantly, welcoming them inside. Instructor Trepe was sitting amongst a couple of stacks of the infamous student folders, legs up on the desk, boots off. It had obviously been a long day. "What a surprise!" she greeted, grunting as her legs fell to the floor so she could turn to see them.   
"We're in need of a little normalcy, Quisty." Kyrie admitted, producing a large bottle of spiced rum from a paper bag.   
Quistis had never looked so happy to receive a gift of these sorts. "I know it's improper and probably borderline alcoholic, but... I could really use some of that right now." Sorting out the soon-to-be new students was getting... irritating.   
Rodger smiled and sat in one of the plush guest chairs. "Well, it's almost the weekend, so..."   
The instructor smiled back gratefully, pulling open one of the bottom drawers. She produced from it three glasses and set them one beside the other, then reached back and took her hair down. It felt good to relax with these two, age difference be damned. She just felt so much younger with her hair down, these days.   
"'_Borderline_ alcoholic'?" Kyrie teased.   
Quistis winked at her, pouring each of them a nice amount to start off with--a little more in her glass than the others'. "Alright, out with it. How was the evening?"   
"Weird." Rodger responded instantly. He opened his mouth to add more, then shook his head. "That pretty much says it all."   
Kyrie let the burn of the alcohol coat her mouth and swallowed before she contributed to the conversation. She wasn't much of a drinker, herself. But the buzz was kind of nice. "He was nothing like I'd expected."   
"Really?" Quistis leaned forward, pushing the folders off to the side. "How'd he dress?"   
"Like... a bank manager." Rodger commented, almost choking on his drink with a chuckle.   
"Dear Hyne." The Instructor sounded amazed. "Is that what he's doing now?"   
"Pretty much." Kyrie answered. "At least, so he says. Investments and so forth."   
The blonde's jaw simply fell open. Investments? Banking? _Irvine?!_ "I have nothing to say to that."   
The three of them laughed, already feeling the stresses and oddness of the day fall away. They had had many nice, still moments with just the three of them. And, every now and again, actually maintained a rather casual air of profound thought process. Though that was pretty damn rare.   
"How did Selphie react?" Quistis could not stifle her curiosity.   
"She's still pretty unsure." Rodger ventured. "But... she was doing well when she left."   
The instructor nodded slowly, holding her half empty glass between the palms of her hands and rolling it softly between them. "Good." She paused, wondering just how okay she was with the whole thing. But then Selphie was never one to bottle up her emotions that much. Selphie knew her number, should it come to that. She knew she shouldn't be so worried about her old friend. "Did he say anything about your parents?"   
Kyrie smirked gently, swallowing another sip smoothly. "Tastefully apologetic." She left it at that. "Tell me something, Quisty."   
"Of course." The woman grinned, pretending to be a lot more intoxicated than she was for a moment.   
"How did everyone find out about the two of them?" She had been wondering that very question for quite some time. She knew more or less how they'd gotten together, and what happened after the shit hit the fan, but... not how they'd broken the news to everyone in the first place.   
Quistis began laughing--that really sweet, reminiscing laughter that can only happen at night behind a locked door with family and friends. "Well, that was fantastic. Seifer had been just off of mainland Esthar for a bit of a holiday from everyone, and Squall had felt the need to take off shortly after due to the whole big Rinoa battle. We didn't know at the time that the two of them had actually wound up in the same place, we just thought they'd ended up taking the same boat on the trip back. The ship had delivered them both on the docks of Balamb, and the whole gang was there to greet one or the other. Squall had just bent over to get the suitcases, and Seifer just leaned back and..." she broke into mad laughter, being forced to wipe the tears from her eyes before returning to the story. "Just smacked him on the ass!" she finished before falling to the side and laughing in the most unladylike of ways.   
Kyrie's shocked look was replaced with her own roaring laughter, making it difficult to breathe. She could picture it, Squall's absolutely horrified expression and Seifer's great big cocky smirk.   
"Poor Squall blushed crimson!" Quistis giggled madly. "It was magnificent!"   
"And that's how you found out?" Rodger was holding his stomach; it already hurt from laughing. The very picture...   
"That's how _everyone_ found out! Even Laguna was there!" She began laughing again, almost too hard to breathe.   
"Oh Hyne!" Kyrie's mouth was starting to get dry. "That is... glorious... I need to make notes here."   
Quistis continued to giggle, recalling the events as though they happened yesterday. "I'm certain Squall had never felt that level of embarrassment at any other time in his life. But, it was out there in the open." She wiped her eyes again, settling down. "He didn't confirm it then. But he didn't deny it, either. I guess we all kind of got the picture instantly."   
Kyrie continued to giggle. "Well, not the most romantic story I've ever heard..."   
"And then my parents decided... it wasn't for them." Rodger commented mostly to himself.   
The instructor drew a deep breath, a slightly stung smile still on her face. Those were wonderful moments... but painful, as well. It was when their group was no longer a group. "Well, there was a general falling out. It happened over a period of time, really." She dare not speak Zell's name. She hadn't since she'd informed Kyrie of his death. Hell, she hadn't even heard the name in so long before then that when she'd received the call herself, it took a moment to register.   
"Don't you worry, you two." She assured, regaining herself. "The past is past. And things... well, they seem to be getting better. That's wonderful. And that's the part you need to remember."   


Kyrie lay in bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. She was waiting for Rodger to come out of the bathroom so they could get some sleep. They were going to try to get to the Presidential Estate relatively early in the morning to help out with everything that needed to be done before the big Trabia visit. Not that there was much they could do, really, but Laguna had left a message while they were gone, inviting them. Besides, it might prove helpful. They did need something to do, after all.   
They'd walked Quistis home after the bottle was empty and the yawns became more frequent; her incredibly nice, Garden funded apartment was just down the street and a few blocks from the building itself. She'd insisted that they didn't need to walk with her, but they had anyway. She didn't even appear to be buzzed, but she never did. There never seemed to be any way to tell exactly how drunk that woman was. Or if she ever actually got drunk to begin with.   
While most of the night's conversation had been lighthearted banter, there was still that slightly uncomfortable matter of... well, the past. She continued to stare at the ceiling, going over bits of the day in her mind. Hyne, she missed them. She was glad Irvine seemed to be making an effort, and Quistis and Selphie had patched things up between them, but... it was still incomplete. She wasn't sure it ever actually could be "complete", but... it felt like it ought to be.   
Ah well. No use dwelling on it. And then a completely different line of thought blasted into her head; did Squall ever hold her as a baby? She wondered. She pictured him holding a squirming infant by the leg at arm's length, a disgusted look of horror on his face, and chuckled to herself.   
The sound of water erupted, and soon after the bathroom door opened. Rodger stood there for a moment, just regarding the situation. "A house all to ourselves. How weird."   
"But good-weird." Kyrie added, pulling the covers back for him a little.   
He took a moment to strip, tossing the clothes into the hamper just inside the bathroom door. Making a show out of hiding his "naughty bits", he walked around the bed and pulled a pair of boxers out of the dresser.   
"Awww." She made an equally big show out of her disappointment.   
He grinned at that, walking back around and getting under the covers. He perked up a little as he made a discovery, laying next to her. "Why, you are nearly nekkid."   
She laughed quietly, showing off just a pair of panties then pulling the covers back over her. "Clothes with satin sheets? Are you nuts?" They weren't in Garden anymore, after all.   
He gave her a devious look and wrapped his arms around her, yanking her closer. "Not to disappoint, but I'm way too tired."   
"Me, too." She admitted, just glad to be laying next to him. She closed her eyes and put her head on his shoulder, laying an arm across his waist. The satin was a nice touch. She'd have to thank Quistis, again. Office mini bar, perhaps? That is, if she didn't have one hidden somewhere in there already.   
"So things went well, huh?" he began to get _real_ used to the sheets, himself. It felt quite nice, cool and smooth but not annoyingly cold. It gave him... ideas.   
"So far so good." She answered. "Here's hoping."   
He lifted his head just enough to give her a good night kiss. "Okay, turn over. I want to be the big spoon."   
She laughed without comment, turning and clicking the bedside lamp off. He put his arm over her and pulled her in close, never feeling more at ease than when they were in this position together. After a moment of stillness, she felt him jokingly grind against her back. "Vinnie?"   
"Shut up." Then laughter. 


	3. Chapter 3

"Retribution Nor Redemption" and the general overall concept of "Retribution Nor Redemption" is completely copyright Orin Drake 2002, as are the characters Kyrie Leonhart and Rodger Kinneas. The characters Seifer Almasy, Squall Leonhart, Quistis Trepe, Ellone (Leonhart?), Laguna Loire and Rinoa "The Great Big Bitch" Heartily (biased? me?) are copyright Squaresoft, as are the terms SeeD, gunblade, Trabia Garden, Griever, and probably a lot of other stuff I forgot to mention. Hell, if you played the game, you know. Enough said.   
Background: Well. Here is the "anticipated" sequel to The Sins of Two Fathers. This won't be as much action as it will be psychological warfare, I think. Don't know what else to tell you. Beware bad language, sexuality and social outcasts having fun regardless of their status at the expense of others.   
  
  


Retribution Nor Redemption   
Chapter 3   
by Orin Drake 

Well, they'd kind of gotten up early. Noon was early, right? Early enough. Showered, dressed, fed and on the Jet at 2:00. So they'd taken their time.   
Navigating the maze of the Presidential Palace was no harder than usual--until they got around to Laguna's office. The hallways in front of it and many yards to either side were completely blocked with furniture. Some of it was recognizable, but others... well, were half assembled at best.   
As they stood there, deciding whether it was best to climb over and try their luck at balance or possibly under with the risk of collapse, Vincent walked up behind them. "Battlefield." He stated simply.   
Kyrie turned with a smirk. "So Deiling Furniture finally delivered?" Long story short, they'd been waiting on some new desks and cabinets for months, told each time that they were "on the way". Apparently it was true this time around.   
"On the day before a political meeting." Vincent confirmed. "All of the hallways looked like this this morning."   
"Glad we're late." Rodger grinned.   
"Kiros will you damn well stop trying to lift that?" they heard the president yell from the other end of the furniture mountain.   
"Well, that's our cue to help." Kyrie announced. "Where should we put all of this?"   
"Anywhere that won't be seen by Trabia's leadership." Vincent suggested helpfully.   
Good thing they'd eaten breakfast. It wasn't really that any of the stuff was all that heavy (maybe that was a slightly negative sign about the quality of the materials used), but it did take more than one person to slide and lift a great deal of it. They made all the use they could out of paper storage rooms and unused offices, stacking and shoving whatever they could together.   
There was still the matter of straightening up the place a bit if Mr. Echsnei wanted a tour. This would be a pretty important visit in a number of political respects. It's not that the Trabia government was being violently overthrown or anything. It was merely that the long-time residents weren't certain if they preferred a monarchy or a representative republic. Or anything else, for that matter. Either way, Echsnei was still in power as the "ruler". So, as to cut through all of the confusion, his official title for the time being was "Mister". Must be confusing to the life-long Trabia residents. Hell, governments all over the world had changed like garments over the past twenty years or so. Laguna was pretty much the only one to have remained in power and with the same title. A little scary, to tell the truth.   
"Isn't Elle supposed to have been here to help us with this?" Kyrie finally asked, leaning against a wall then letting herself slide down it until she was sitting on the floor. Hey, it was clean.   
Laguna crossed his arms, regarding the once again empty hallway. "Well, she is supposed to get back from the Balamb Resort sometime today." He looked up and down the hall thoughtfully. "And who wants to help move my desk?"   
Rodger looked down at his girlfriend, realizing that he was out in the open, completely exposed to the predator that was Laguna's cry for help. He gave her a slightly pleading look.   
"I'll do laundry if you go." She offered far too sweetly.   
"I don't know if it's worth it." He responded.   
"But I'm ever so tired." She tried to suppress a wicked little smile.   
Rodger pretended to be very offended and walked away from her to Laguna. "I'd rather go with you, anyway. She's a cruel, cold woman."   
"Can't argue with that." Vincent quipped, leaning against the wall next to Kyrie.   
"I _knew_ you were all against me. I just never really realized it so... completely before." She made an overdramatic sigh.   
The President smiled and wrapped an arm around Rodger, seeing his opportunity. "Great. Bonding time!"   
"Kyrie!" Rodger mock-cried as he was lead away down the hall. "Help!"   
"No." She called simply, waving.   
Vincent crossed his arms and grinned at this display. Seeing that they were now abandoned in a remote hallway, he struck up a conversation. "So, what _are_ you going to do now?"   
"I really don't know." She admitted, almost under her breath. "I'm not sure of exactly what I'm interested in." She got her legs underneath her and slid back up the wall, her muscles still aching from all of that damn furniture stacking.   
He stared down the hall for a moment, seriously pondering a number of options running through his head. "Well, you can always intern for me I suppose."   
She detected a hint of... deviousness in his voice. Maybe it was just her imagination, but she swore she could hear it. "I don't know about that one. I thought you were sick to death of me already."   
"Only almost." He smirked. "There's still time to ultimately hate you."   
"Sweet." She said flatly.   
He chuckled. "You have no idea at all? No plans?"   
"Well, I was relatively certain I wasn't going to graduate at all." She admitted.   
"Ah, no faith in yourself."   
"When it counts."   
"Yes. Indeed." There was something _very_ unsettling about that smile. Softly and casually, he commented, "You _do_ know the speaker/microphone switch to the answering machine was on last night, right? And that it transmits sounds even through the ringing?"   
_Oh. My._ She knew what he was saying, but it didn't quite... compute at first. When it did, there was an almost audible click in her brain. "I... I do now."   
His eyes turned dark, but not from anger. It was more of a playfulness he was feeling. "Watch out for that next time."   
Something deep inside of her desperately wanted to ask, _"Or what?"_ But she obviously couldn't let that part take over at the moment. "I will. Thanks." _Why_, after all of _that_, after what _that_ had just _entailed_, she actually did _not_ feel either awkward or embarrassed, she would never understand.   
"Would you like some coffee while we wait?" he continued on as if their entire conversation was as easy and natural as it always was.   


Rodger stared blankly at her as he located her, alone, in one of the little "coffee nooks" that was located two or three to a floor in the Presidential Palace. She just gave him a great big grin and lifted her cup, taking another sip. "Have you been here the whole time while I was being forced to help?" he joked.   
"Almost." She stated simply, that incredibly huge expression of deep amusement not leaving. It was clearly noticeable by her companion, to say the least.   
"What?!" he finally asked, seeing that elaborate smile plastered on her face.   
"The speaker/mic switch was on when Vincent called." She answered quietly. "And apparently, you can hear what's going on even through the ringing."   
He paled. How absolutely embarrassing. "And why are you smiling about this?"   
"Because it's funny as hell." She answered, unable to control the giggle rearing its ugly head.   
"And you call _me_ the sick-o." He joked, still astonished. "And he's not... y'know, weirded out? Or upset?"   
"Nope." She responded, taking the last gulp, then placing the cup back on the counter with a dull thunk. "I think you owe me a pastry for the kink bet."   
"That doesn't prove he's kinky." He grinned and grasped Kyrie around the waist, taking a little break himself.   
"And what does it prove?" she inquired ever so sweetly.   
"Oh, I don't know. I'm just looking for more proof." He teased, kissing her cheek affectionately.   
There was quite the silence in the glare she threw his direction. "You are a fucking demon." She finally commented, many thoughts dancing through that sick head of hers.   
"Please, not in public." Came a voice from around the corner, walking closer.   
The couple exchanged that instant, half second long glance with one another. But, thankfully, they both kept their mouths shut regarding the earlier subject. Rodger took the initiative for the conversation. "Does anyone need anything else done?"   
Vincent came around the corner, his arms full of bound paperwork. "Now that's very kind of you, to volunteer your services."   
Rodger released a disgruntled moan. "That's supposed to go to the transportation office, isn't it?"   
Vincent nodded, a horribly vicious smile on his face. "As I said, nice of you to deliver it for me..."   
"I don't want a damn thing to do with that woman." He pushed Kyrie forward. "She'll do it."   
His girlfriend looked back at him with halfway joking contempt. "What makes you say that?"   
"Uh..." he searched for something that would make this trip worthwhile. "Dinner?"   
She stared at him for a long period of time, only seeing his hopeful expression grow more hopeful, little by little. "Oh, fine." She turned back to Vincent and offered her arms to take the load. "If I have to do shit like this all the time, I'm finding a job elsewhere."   
Vincent only grinned, glad to get out of seeing the transportation secretary. "I really, really hate that woman." He admitted openly for the umpteenth time.   
"So do I." Kyrie mumbled. "But at least she's easily frightened."   
"If _this_ doesn't do it," Vincent held up his claw, "_What_ will?"   
There was no way she could directly answer that question that wouldn't make her appear to be the world's biggest pervert. So, she looked back to Rodger. "You owe me dinner _and_ dessert."   
He just held up a thumb with a great big and understandably relieved grin. Hell, he didn't have to deal with that woman, he was glad. She was so... latchy. In a very disturbing sort of way. She was... normal in a way that went so far beyond normal, it was grotesquely abnormal.   
Vincent waited until she disappeared into the lift across the hall, then started up a conversation. "I've noticed you seem a bit more... attentive to her of late."   
Strikingly blunt though the beginning of the conversation was, Rodger actually knew what he meant. How, he wasn't sure. After the whole conversation before, he might have been a bundle of nerves or even giggling like an idiot around the man, let alone what he'd just said, but... Vincent was "one of them". Part of the "circle of freaks", maybe. "I've just been... a little worried lately."   
Funny how acute the man had become at sensing the emotions of others. It was often the most subtle things that set off his senses. He'd learned long ago to listen to that, to build off of those signals. "Just lately?"   
"Always." Rodger admitted quietly. "But... mostly lately. She's had some dreams about her parents. Just regular, mundane things, but... gets me thinking." He paused, trying to put those thoughts into words. "It doesn't seem like... she's holding anything in. Not intentionally. But... I wonder."   
Vincent nodded, glancing at the illuminated lift display. Well, that was quick. "Are you worried she may have a breakdown?"   
Rodger blinked, his stomach instantly tightening. "Well, I wasn't before."   
Vincent let out a low, carefully placed chuckle. "She'll be alright. But there is something built up in there." He had worried, himself. Since the moment Squall had died, he had worried about her. But she assured him time and time again that she could handle it. Just never in so many words.   
The lift dinged it's arrival, and out stepped a slightly out of breath Kyrie with no papers. "A drop and run." She announced.   
"Aww, Jilly didn't even get to see you and tell you there are colored contacts you can get for your eyes." Rodger beamed brightly.   
"Keep that up and I'll tell her you both want to see her." She threatened.   
"What did I do?" Vincent asked in the most innocent voice he could muster.   
"You look guilty." She joked. In truth, she was a hair's breadth away from having said, _"You two alone together? Hyne knows."_ But that... that may have been a bit too much. At least, at that point in time.   
It was at that moment Kiros interrupted their conversation. He was actually, literally, _sprinting_ down the hall. In what looked like sheer panic.   
In a very easy-going voice, Vincent seemed to snare him and force him to stop for conversation. "And just what are you running around for this time?"   
The man was clearly out of breath and on the verge of _something_ mental. "Mr. Echsnei has decided he'd like to visit early. Today. In an hour."   
Well, an early government visit was certainly something to panic about. At least, a lot more so than what Kiros normally panicked about. Kyrie attempted the same easy-going tone so as not to "startle the wild animal". "The halls are clean. What's the problem?"   
Kiros bowed his head ever so slightly. "I have no idea where Laguna is."   
The other three exchanged a quick, amused glance at one another before they turned back to the matter at hand. Rodger had meant to say something a little more reassuring than what came out, but... "Good luck."   
"Thank you." The man responded sincerely enough, then bounded off in the other direction as if he'd never even stopped in the first place.   
Kyrie took a moment to regard her ensemble. Not quite stately, but her usual. Jeans, boots, short sleeved dark blue tee. She pulled her hair out of the loose ponytail and whipped it around a little. Good enough.   
Rodger regarded himself similarly. Why was it he only seemed to worn things that were torn and faded? Eh, nothing he could do about it. So he parodied her hair toss.   
Vincent crossed his arms and smirked at the two of them for their half-assed efforts. But then, he needed to do absolutely nothing. Never did. Always a suit, always. It was old habit. "Well, I suppose we ought to find the president. Kiros will be running in circles for some time."   


It was never really hard to find Laguna. Just look in the places you'd expect him--then turn around. Never failed. They'd located him in minutes, informed him, and off they'd gone to find Kiros again. That was a bit harder, though they did finally catch up to him thanks to the sound of his ragged breathing after all of that running. He wouldn't be living that one down for quite some time.   
Well, things really were in order for the most part. Laguna was quite casual about the whole thing. Nervous, but casual. He knew Mr. Echsnei to be considered a very down to earth sort of man. And the citizens of Trabia seemed to like him quite a bit, regardless of what kind of government they ultimately decided upon. There were never plans to get him removed that he'd heard of.   
It seemed things were certainly clean enough. Not as spotless as Kiros insisted they be, but nothing could ever reach that standard. The guards were informed so they could have a little greeting ceremony as Mr. Echsnei arrived, and the rest of the time was spent trying to convince Kiros that he needed to relax. Laguna threatened to put together a panel just to see if they could accomplish that one task.   
When the Trabia government procession of seven arrived (and right on time, sweetly enough), things went smoothly. Laguna and Kiros went about with the official greetings while Rodger, Kyrie and Vincent stayed behind to... well, wait. There was a lovely little conference hall near the heart of the palace designed specifically for these small, friendly gatherings, so they simply waited and watched the coverage on the big screen television.   
"Do you think Kiros was born like that..." Kyrie ever so subtly pulled a tin of pretzels out of one of the fancy ottomans, "Or do you think it was time with Laguna that made him hyper-obsessive?" She placed the tin on the edge of the table and sat back down at the end.   
Rodger and Vincent made momentary eye contact across the table to one another, but it was actually Vincent that removed the tin's lid before responding. "It must simply be Kiros. The president hasn't done anything to me. So far."   
"I don't know about that." Kyrie grinned, snagging a handful of pretzels for herself. "You're... quite different from when I first met you."   
"Well, that is _your_ fault." He responded with a completely straight face.   
Rodger smiled widely, but did nothing more than start munching on his own handful of snacks. With another glimpse at the television, he inquired, "Uh... are they planning a tour before or after they sit down and chat?"   
They looked to Vincent, but he only shrugged and casually started to nibble on a single pretzel. So, Kyrie in all of her infinite wisdom, shoved the entire handful of her own snacks into her mouth, covered the tin, and hid it again. "No prmblm."   
"And now I recall why you aren't here to greet heads of countries often." It seemed Vincent was on a roll. But he broke into a chuckle when he got a single finger in response.   
Rodger pondered his situation. Sure he could do what his ever so couth and proper girlfriend had. But that seemed doubly appalling considering this was Kiros' "private stash" of which no one supposedly knew about. It certainly explained how the man got a hold of so much energy, secretly snacking all day. But he decided upon another road: stuffing them into his pocket. "For later." He jokingly assured the amused looks.   
Just in time, too. The door on the far side of the room was just opening, and Laguna's voice could be heard going on and on about... something. Luckily, there was also some pleasant laughter to accompany it. The pretzel thieves stood up and turned around quickly, pretending that they'd been ready for this all along.   
Laguna beamed at them. It seemed he and Trabia's leader were at the very least getting along. "And this would be my most important assembled staff and family... you included, Kiros." He added, over his shoulder.   
Taking his cue, Vincent stepped forward and offered his flesh hand in greeting. "Mr. Echsnei. I'm Vincent Valentine, head of palace security."   
"Mr. Valentine." The man greeted in a husky voice. He was almost as tall as Vincent, dressed in a gray suit with a shock of red hair. "Sorry for so little of a warning."   
Kyrie watched closely, hopefully without appearing to have been studying the situation. He seemed a nice enough guy. She'd never heard anything bad about him, truth be told. And, regardless of the small parade of people he carried behind him, he seemed quite natural and at ease in this setting. She instantly resumed a polite smile as the attention was turned her direction.   
"And this is my granddaughter, Kyrie, and her boyfriend, Rodger Kinneas." Laguna announced with all the pride appropriate.   
"Nice to meet you, Mr. Echsnei." She greeted genuinely. Hell, he hadn't done anything to piss her off. Yet, anyway.   
The man actually smiled and shook her outstretched hand, nodding politely. "Kyrie Leonhart. It is very nice to finally meet you." Strangely enough, he meant it. Obviously he knew her lineage; but more than that, he knew she'd attended Trabia Garden. Not once had he had the chance to visit during his administration.   
Off to the side, as Rodger was meeting and greeting, Laguna and Vincent watched. "It's interesting..." the president commented quietly, mostly to himself. "It seems like everyone that ever meets her... either really likes her or really hates her right away. I didn't used to think that was fair."   
"And now?" Vincent inquired, seeing Mr. Echsnei actually chuckle at a comment most people likely wouldn't. Certainly not in the company of a man with a claw and an Almasy relation.   
"Well... now I think she forces them to reveal more about themselves than they ever would have had they not met her."   
Vincent grinned subtly. "You have a good point, there." Laguna clearly wasn't as all as... uh, less than observant as he was known to be. Well, not when it came to the truly important things.   


The rest of the visit went off without a hitch. Quick though it was, at least nothing went wrong. Kiros still freaked a little (and looked very puzzled when he saw the top of the ottoman was slightly askew; something Even Vincent had to concentrate to keep a straight face about), but all was well. Though there was that time when Rodger had readjusted in his chair and the sound of crunching had occurred, sending he, Kyrie and Vincent into a fit of covering their mouths subtly...   
The tour also went along astoundingly well. Mr. Echsnei actually commented as to how clean and well maintained the hallways were (Kiros beamed--and instantly stepped in front of the empty office that held a heap of furniture). It was a short visit, all in all, but a nice one. Relaxed, friendly, entertaining.   
Almost the moment Mr. Echsnei's train left the station, Ellone's arrived. It was quite funny, actually, seeing as how Elle had heard on the radio that the visit was in progress and had taken the time and effort to change into a fancy dress in one of the train's rest rooms. "All dressed up and nowhere to go." She giggled, giving everyone her standard happy hugs.   
It was quite soon after that Kyrie and Rodger had decided to go home... or more along the lines that Vincent had jokingly dismissed them, and they went along with it. It was getting late, they were (miraculously) tired. Dinner was a couple of tuna sandwiches, some Coke. No big deal, really. But it was so gratifying to eat in their own house. Eerie, but neat.   
Kind of weird to be eating at a real table, though. And certainly here... Kyrie couldn't help but think of how wrong it felt to be sitting in Seifer's old spot. Rodger had picked Squall's randomly, but... that felt weird, too. Not bad, not wrong, but... different.   
She missed them. Terribly, really. Sometimes she'd wake up with their voices in her mind, like the days when one of them would venture in to wake her up for some sort of day long adventure. When she opened her eyes, they'd adjust to the room around her and she would see that she wasn't in her room anymore, let alone on the same continent. It was all she could do to stifle a moan from time to time.   
But she did not cry. And she didn't really understand _why_ that was. She never could have explained it, let alone really understood it. It hurt so badly to know she'd never see them again, to know how they died. Secretly, she did blame herself a little. The "what ifs" built up after a while. And she always had that same cold, distant look in her eyes when she thought about it. It made her face look half dead and hollow, but every once in a while she just couldn't help it.   
Feeling Rodger's hand reach across to cover hers shook her out of it. She blinked like she'd been struck and stopped looking through him, to look at him. "Passing thought." She dismissed quietly.   
"Yeah, I know." He countered.   
She felt comfort in his tone, but worry in his touch. Shooting him a questioning look, she waited for an answer.   
"I don't know." He admitted quietly. "But... you never did cry for them. Not once."   
"Not my style." She joked.   
He smiled knowingly at that. It was definitely true, sure. But... "I just don't know. I'd hate to think you were... holding it all in or anything like that."   
"You'd hate to think a lot of things." She teased slightly. "It still doesn't seem... whole. Real. Complete. I don't know why. It's like... there's a portion missing. I don't... I'm not sure I understand it any better."   
He nodded at her explanation, just glad she was still talking to him. To have been shut out would have been absolutely awful. The fact she would talk of the painful things even though she had so little to say was comforting.   
The silence in this place was just too much for her to bear at that moment in time. "Well then. If you don't mind, I think I'll make a quick check on Cloud, and then we'll go to bed."   
He smiled, knowing it was not an intentional avoiding subject change. "Sounds good."   


** Hey, Spikey Head. You awake?**   
** Funny.** Flashed up on the screen, followed by, **Really.**   
** Funny ha-ha or funny shut up?** she ventured.   
**I don't need to answer that.**   
** Too true.** She responded, glad for the humor. **How goes out there in the depths of space?**   
** Boredom for the moment. Hey, isn't it getting late there?**   
** Yeah.** She admitted. **But I thought I'd make sure you weren't dead or anything. I mean, then I wouldn't be able to impress people.**   
** Morbid tonight, are we?** he joked.   
** I just wish you'd come back down, Cloud. **She typed without thinking it through.   
** Are you alright? **popped up quickly.   
** Yeah. **She responded after cracking her knuckles.** I'm fine. Just a weird mood, I guess. I mean, shit, think about it. You're floating around in space with a freaky head and I'm chatting with you every day from the planet way down below.**   
** That doesn't seem normal, no... **he agreed.** But... it works, right?**   
** It _has_ to. **She responded.** I guess that's what bothers me.**   
** Yeah, I know what you mean.** He assured her. **Responsibility sucks.**   
Well, at least that made her laugh. **Like a fuckin' leech.**   
**Now go to bed.** He advised.   


She walked into the bedroom with a yawn. What a day. Moving furniture, flinging quips back and forth between family and friends like it was pudding in a food fight, meeting heads of countries. Just another day, really. She looked at Rodger, suspiciously looking back at her.   
His infamous peeling off of the shirt followed by the fling was finished not by the usual yawn and stretch, but by the ever so slow unbuckling of his belt. Equally slowly he tugged the end out, a vicious smile starting to cross his lips. She wanted dessert from earlier? She'd get dessert. He wrapped the buckle end around his right hand and slowly stretched out his arms so that the belt was taunt between his fists. He expertly gave her that glorious little devious expression through the hair that had fallen into his face and waited patiently for the reaction.   
It was instantaneous. "Damn you." She whispered, already having surrendered. He'd just gotten to know her too fucking well. He manipulated that leather against her flesh with fucking _mastery_, knowing just where and how hard at just the right moment.   
He didn't even bother moving; he knew he had her. His voice dropped to a growl, low and powerful. "Take off your clothes and get on the bed."   
The jokes and smart-ass comments ceased with that order. This was too good. She did as commanded quickly, leaving the garments along with the guilt on the floor where they landed. She knew the drill--and she wasn't tired of it one bit. On the bed, hands and knees.   
The first unexpected _crack_ found her shoulder. She fought to keep all sound inside but a steady breathing; a challenge. That was instantly answered as a weight settled right behind her, then an arm was wrapped around her neck. She let herself be pulled backwards, leaning against him. The smoothness of his chest and the coarseness of his jeans was a lovely sensation when mixed with the teeth marks he left in her neck. As he bit down, his palm gently slid between her legs.   
That certainly enticed a gasp. Challenge accepted and won, damn. Before she even had the chance to gain balance on all fours again as she was thrown back down, another _crack_ struck a broad path across her back. Then three lashes in rapid succession. As the last _crack_ echoed in her head, over her skin, it was joined by the sound of his zipper.   
Ah, second challenge. And so quickly. She intentionally waited until she heard the thump of the fabric into the floor before she bolted forward--caught by almost viciously strong hands by her hips and yanked back. She bit her tongue as she felt the whispers of soft flesh lightly against her thighs, just waiting...   
Then he shoved her forward, landing on top of her. One hand scooped securely around her neck while the other supported him as he rubbed slowly and deliberately against the small of her back.   
She let go for a moment just to enjoy this sensation--then it was on to answering the challenge. He'd let go of the belt. In fact, she could see it. She bucked once, testing against the rhythm, then twice with force. With the same, purely instinct driven movement, she turned her body over and rolled, grasping him around the neck, so that she wound up on top, looking down at him. In that motion, she had successfully grasped the belt; she looped it around his neck and pulled it tight before he could so much as struggle against her.   
His domination was shattered in a completely uncontrollable moan. She always knew _exactly_ when to take him by surprise and turn the tables. He felt her slowly, deliberately seat herself on top of him--though, considering he was not wearing protection, she did not allow him entry--and pull the belt just a little tighter so that it bit into his flesh. With that came almost painfully slow movement.   
Second challenge answered, but not completed. One hand looped around the belt and the other pressed against his shoulder for balance, she sped up the pace. A steady rhythm of fasts and slows, short and long ensued until she leaned further down and gained her own pleasure--with it, finally offering the speed and frequency so important to release, sliding farther down at the last possible second.   
Arms wrapped around her, fingernails clawing, muscles tensing, breath hitching... and then the desperate grasp onto _something_ became a lazy hug. Her fingers were practically numb as she loosened the belt and took it off. Before recovery comes safety. Once the belt was out of the way, she gave in and collapsed, totally exhausted and quite sore. After a long, thorough silence, she finally found the strength to murmur, "We have to go to bed, now."   
He laughed through the heavy breathing. "In a minute."   
She grinned, gently lifting and dismounting like one would a horse, getting the box of tissues on the night stand. "Did I do good?"   
"Done real good." He panted, a wide smile on his face. "Hope I left a mark this time."   
She grabbed a tissue for herself, then turned around for his inspection. It sure as hell _felt_ like he'd left something.   
"Barely bleeding." He teased, grasping for the offered tissues.   
After the cleaning (and the recovery), they dawned their respective undergarments and pulled back the covers, sliding into their bed. It was no longer quite as weird as it was the night before. Now it was starting to get... comfortable. Homey. Their tiring activities and satin sheets were certainly a glorious way to end a day.   
"I love you." He whispered softly. Nightly routine; but those words had never lost their original meaning.   
"I love you, too." She whispered back, pressing even closer up against him.   


She sat bolt upright, dripping with cold sweat, her hands holding the covers around her in a vice grip. _Nightmare._ She tried to tell herself. _Just a nightmare. A really bad nightmare._   
"Kyrie?" Rodger was shaken awake by the sudden movement.   
She closed her eyes, breathing deeply. "Nightmare." She said quietly.   
"No kidding." He commented, sitting up to lightly press his palm against her back. She was radiating heat so furiously that he almost yanked his hand back. "You're burning up."   
"Might be getting sick, then." She convinced herself as much as him. "Shouldn't have shaken hands with all of those damn people."   
A little ease settled over her boyfriend's mind as he sat up with her. "S'pose not. I bet world leaders are notorious for not washing their hands."   
Her heart was still racing, but she grinned at him. "Maybe they believe themselves above germs."   
He rubbed her back gently, getting used to the heat as the skin slowly cooled off. "It's not usual you have nightmares." He commented. "At least, not like this."   
"Never had one like this at all." She rubbed her eyes, recovering her hold on reality. She collected the shatters of the dream, somewhat surprised that she could still recall almost every detail. She wished to hell she didn't. "Sephiroth." She murmured. "It was Sephiroth."   
Completely understandable why she'd woken like that, he thought. She'd told him long ago everything that had happened, and everything she knew of the man. Attractive though she found him physically... there was a discouraging fear there. Not of the man, really, but what he'd done--what he was capable of doing. She didn't know the whole of the story, but she knew Cloud and Vincent felt similarly in the fear matter.   
Regardless of _knowing_ she was awake, and _knowing_ it had been an incredibly real and detrimental _nightmare_... she still felt a little trapped by it. The memory just would not fade. Not even in childhood had she had dreams like this. But, cooled off and soothed, she let Rodger guide her back under the covers and to sleep. 


	4. Chapter 4

"Retribution Nor Redemption" and the general overall concept of "Retribution Nor Redemption" is completely copyright Orin Drake 2002, as are the characters Kyrie Leonhart and Rodger Kinneas. The characters Seifer Almasy, Squall Leonhart, Quistis Trepe, Ellone (Leonhart?), Laguna Loire and Rinoa "The Great Big Bitch" Heartily (biased? me?) are copyright Squaresoft, as are the terms SeeD, gunblade, Trabia Garden, Griever, and probably a lot of other stuff I forgot to mention. Hell, if you played the game, you know. Enough said.   
Background: Well. Here is the "anticipated" sequel to The Sins of Two Fathers. This won't be as much action as it will be psychological warfare, I think. Don't know what else to tell you. Beware bad language, sexuality and social outcasts having fun regardless of their status at the expense of others.   
  
  


Retribution Nor Redemption   
Chapter 4   
by Orin Drake 

She _remembered_ the nightmare even as she opened her eyes to the morning light. That was frustrating. Annoying, most of all. Not that she _should_ have merely forgotten it, per se, but it was still so clear, like she'd just woken from it. Yes, annoying was certainly the word. Regardless, she closed her eyes again and slowly crept her whole body backward to rest against Rodger's. This was the truly fantastic thing about this whole arrangement--being able to wake up without an alarm and just lay there, next to him. What a weird thought, really. But she did enjoy it, and she'd never deny the fact she was glad for him.   
He mumbled something as her body came to rest next to his, then turned until he was on his back. Securely in a safe place, Kyrie finally allowed herself to think back on that dream. The events, the feelings... Hyne, it had been awful. Not at first, no. At first it had been... pretty damn good, honestly. But then... she shuddered. Maybe now was not the time, when it was still so fresh in her mind. Later, when it had faded. She'd feel much better that way.   
Her shudder triggered an unconscious switch in Rodger, and his arm slid lazily over her side. She giggled quietly to herself, being made fully aware that they had been sleeping in the same bed for quite some time. Living in sin, as Vincent had put it. Yeah, that was a pretty correct phrase.   
His body turned again, just a little, allowing a flitter of light on his eyelid from the crack between the curtains. With another murmur, he turned fully and embraced her lazily, but consciously. "Mornin'."   
"Good morning." She returned, just slightly perkier than usual. Hell, they didn't have to go to class. It was finally starting to sink in. They'd _never have to go to class again_. Whoa.   
"Sleep better?" he inquired with a yawn.   
"Out like a light after that." Maybe that was a little strange, too... but then, she had been tired. And she'd realized it was nothing more than a nightmare to begin with. Maybe she was just being a little to jittery about the whole thing. "What are today's plans?"   
"Go back to Esthar and annoy everyone, of course." He carefully pulled the covers away in a joking manner, exposing his topless girlfriend. "Then we'll see if we get better job offers."   
She made a show out of hiding her breasts with her hands. "Think these babies would help?"   
"No." He answered deadpan.   
"Pft." She responded. At ease here. Really and truly. It was a nice thing. Still a little weird, but... comfortable.   


While Rodger was showering, she had made coffee and starting watching, of all fucking things, world news. Now that was just unreal. Very odd. But of course not uncalled for; being the granddaughter of a world power and having an interest in politics and world affairs, she was expected to keep up with the news. But sitting around in a robe with a cup of coffee, watching the news... it was cold shivers eerie. It was "shit I'm turning into my dad" eerie. It was... way too close to adulthood. Which explained why Rodger found her sifting through some of her old comic books to bring back out of the closet.   
No matter. They still had strawberry shampoo in the shower. But just in case, Kyrie placed her rubber ducky on one of the shower trays. Never hurt to be too cautious. She showered and dried relatively quickly, but still managed to take her sweet time. Until there was something to hurry for, she was _not_ going to rush. She was fully aware that she wouldn't be able to handle doing absolutely nothing for an extended period of time... but it was sure nice for a little while.   
Her infamous hair styling technique: flip head down, shake hair out with fingers, snap head back up. It was easier than most. The fanciest thing she did with it was scrunching it all into a ponytail, so the term "easy to manage" came to mind. She looked at the mess atop her head in the bathroom mirror.   
An ungodly shiver grasped her body. For a moment, just for a fraction of her reality, she had seen something _else_ reflected back at her. It was just a flash of something, like a glint of silvery light sparkling off the surface of rippling water; but it was stationary in her mind. It was something... nerve wracking. It was something... green-eyed.   
She'd pushed herself away from the sink violently, almost stumbling backward. Her heart was absolutely racing with the ghost of that image still on her unblinking eyes, and she had to remind herself to take a breath. She remained standing there, back to the bathroom door, just staring at that mirror that only reflected her. For a moment there, just a moment...   
She closed her eyes, taking a few more slow breaths. Talk about nightmare jitters. Apparently the dream had affected her quite a bit more than she'd thought. Damn. Just... damn. That'd been scary as hell. She took a long moment to fully compose herself before she stared into the mirror again, even daring to take a few steps toward it. Nothing but her. Just her in the mirror. She resigned herself to cut out the psychological thriller movies for a couple of months.   
"Are you alright?" Rodger had asked almost instantly when she'd walked out of the bathroom.   
She stopped and regarded him seriously, almost a little freaked that he could read her so well; or maybe that he had been watching for this moment. "Yeah." She paused with that word, and the seconds seemed to pause with her. "I'm alright. The dream just kind of... hit me in there, I think. I'll tell you later. Tonight. When it's a little less... real."   
There was a shiver that crawled down his back after those words. But he hadn't seen any indication that she was trying to hide anything from him. So, he let it all go for now, giving her a quick kiss and getting ready to go. Tonight, she'd said. She was certainly as good as her word, so he tried not to worry.   


They did well; they were quick in getting to the station, getting a bite to eat there before getting on the Jet. Hell, they made it _into_ Esthar _at_ noon. A thrilling accomplishment by any standards. Well, for them.   
Ellone was there to greet them at the door, being on her way to some political something or other outside of the palace. Of course, she stopped to give them both hugs and effectively warning them that Jilly was on her lunch break and to avoid certain hallways if they didn't want to run into the woman. You knew that if _Ellone_ didn't get along with someone, they were simply a horrendous human being. While she never admitted to actually hating anyone, it was quite clear with what never needed to be said.   
Getting off the lift before Laguna's office, they were met with a most... interesting sight. It was Ward, back from his vacation at Fisherman's Horizon. Only, it was Ward in shorts and the brightest, most heinously colored short sleeved shirt known to mankind. The sunglasses weren't such a surprise, considering the ensemble. But the straw hat... As he saw them, he spread his arms out. Translation: "Ta-da!"   
Kyrie put a hand over her mouth. If it were actually possible for something to be too funny to laugh at, perhaps this was it. No, there was no _perhaps_ about it. She absolutely could not speak. She wished she had a camera. She hoped she could get the picture of his bare legs out of her mind, and quickly.   
"Lookin' good, Ward." How Rodger had found it in himself to speak without laughing was beyond the knowledge of any god. He could feel it coming, boiling inside of him, threatening to overflow into soundless painful gasps and streaming tears.   
The man nodded. Translation: "Thank you." He turned, showing off his new duds and tan at another angle, then waved. Translation: "See you two later."   
They waved back and watched him walk away. When he was well into the labyrinth of hallways, the laughter finally exploded. Rodger was first, completely incapable of holding it back any longer. It spread like wildfire, however. Kyrie started out in a squeaking giggle and ended in a breathless, almost painful coughing.   
It was at the very ending edge of their laughter that Laguna casually strolled past. He had nothing else to do today but arrange furniture, so he'd been taking many jaunts around all morning to avoid the work, frankly. "I take it you've seen Ward?" he inquired knowingly.   
Kyrie tried very hard to restrain herself from another painful bout of amused insanity. "Was he... you know... _on_ anything?"   
Her grandfather grinned at her. "I've been trying to figure that out."   
Rodger was still in the process of gasping, leaning against the wall to keep himself upright. He had this amazingly disturbing vision of Quistis actually having decided upon going with Ward. She'd ultimately decided to finish all of her paperwork first so she could get a head start, then get a weekend at the spa Elle had been to. But the mere picture of classy, "tasteful bathing suit" Quistis coming back with Ward dressed like _that_... It was just too much.   
"Should we go relax somewhere?" Laguna found himself quite unable to stop a couple of short chuckles. Rodger's laughter was spreading again.   
"Let's go bother Vincent." Kyrie suggested a little too enthusiastically.   
And speak of the devil... The man in question had heard their initial burst of laughter all the way from his office and had just taken the turn into the hallway they were recovering in. He had a very good instinct of when to arrive at just the right time to thwart all bothering efforts. As he met her eyes with a devious plot-ruining grin, that's when he saw it--whatever "it" was. He looked at her knowingly, even when she had turned away to listen to whatever it was Laguna was saying to her. There was something amiss about her manner. Maybe he could see a lack of sleep in her eyes. Or maybe that was a twinkle of... unease? Distaste? Perhaps even... a little nightmare anxiety? He of all people ought to know. He made a distinct mental note to talk to her about it as soon as possible. Something was not right, and it was wrong enough to have shaken her. Hell, it was wrong enough to have shaken _him_ when he'd seen it in her eyes. Maybe Rodger was right to have been so on edge of late.   
"Have you seen Ward since he's gotten back?" Laguna pulled Vincent out of his thoughts for the time being.   
He regarded the president with a mockingly disgusted shake of the head. "As head of security, I should not allow him in here like that. There must be... some danger in it. Something about that has to be illegal."   
Rodger, who'd just gotten over the freaking giggles, started in again. His girlfriend elbowed him before joining in, picturing Ward in a solitary cell in the basement, in that outfit.   
Vincent took advantage of the break in conversation. "Can I have a moment with you, Kyrie?" he asked politely.   
That was almost frightening somehow. She hadn't any idea why, but there was a sense of knowing under his tone. Normally at words like that, coming from Vincent, she'd probably be grinning like a moron. But this was... definitely serious. "Sure." She turned to Rodger and announced, "I'll be back."   
He nodded and waved with a smile, but felt something in his chest tighten as he watched them round the corner together. He had no reason to feel either suspicious (no, not like _that_) or concerned, but... he did. And it was getting clearer and clearer in his mind even as he tried to pay attention to Laguna's old war stories about Ward.   


It wasn't like Vincent was just leading her out into the other hallway. No, he was actually leading her all the way to his office. The edges of her "internal alarm system" were beginning to buzz a little at this. She'd never felt so... closely studied by the man before. The whole thing was actually almost beginning to make her feel a little uncomfortable. It was when she walked into his office and he _shut and locked the door_ that worry began to edge on a still panic. This was a serious situation. And she wasn't really sure she wanted to be a part of it.   
Vincent sat leisurely at his desk, trying to conduct an air of normalcy about this whole inquisition. "You're just not quite yourself today." He started simply.   
She had no intention of hiding anything from him, and never would have. He knew nightmares like she wouldn't believe, she was sure. But her first thought was still, _Hmm, how to play this..._ "A really awful nightmare last night. And I think I'm getting sick, besides." She added, if only to appease herself. There was an unwelcome voice in the back of her mind that suggested she was not getting sick, but going insane. She told that voice to shut up and fuck off, respectively.   
He raised an eyebrow, watching her face carefully. He knew she was not the "type" to have such nightmares; it simply wasn't in her personality. "Tell me about it, then."   
A delicate, almost shy smile came over her lips. "I, uh... well, alright. But can I skip the beginning?"   
"Skip nothing." He answered seriously. "No detail."   
Discussing this with Vincent of all people was really going to make or break their relationship, she was certain. "Ooookay." She cleared her throat. "Well, I was having sex--"   
"What kind of sex?" he interrupted wickedly.   
She paused for a moment, struck by the question. But that didn't throw her off. "Alright, I was being fucked. Happy?"   
"Very." He let his expression soften a little, amused by her answer. "By..?"   
She smirked. The answer to the question disturbed her as much as it had excited her at the time. "Well... by Sephiroth."   
His breath hissed out quietly as he closed his eyes. Leaning back in his chair a little, he commented, "That is a nightmare."   
She coughed suggestively. "Well, not at the moment it wasn't." She paused, hoping he'd offer her a little more insight into his comment.   
"Go ahead." Was all he said.   
Why she still felt a little embarrassed discussing this with him was a bit of a mystery. Any normal person would have felt a bit uncomfortable, sure. But she was a little more... "not normal". She continued, anyway. "It, uh, lasted. Quite a while. And then he actually came... and that's when the nightmare started." She didn't realize she had goose bumps on her arms as she continued, a shiver threatening to interrupt her at any moment. "I felt like, uh, orgasm was coming on, but... it didn't happen. It was something else. Something..." she searched for the word, unconsciously wrapping her arms around her waist, "Transitional."   
His poker face remained as he took all of the information in. Every last detail recorded and analyzed. The word struck him as interesting, to say the least. "Transitional?"   
She nodded, grasping for the right words. "I... changed. It was like... we'd merged. It hurt, but... it didn't hurt. It was like... when I was impaled. Pain so intense it was something different." She stopped, shaking her head. She just couldn't find the words. And then one solitary name came to mind that finally gave way to a violent shudder in her. The word was so cruel she could scarcely voice it, but she felt Vincent's eyes boring into her, yanking it out of her. "Jenova."   
He remained very quiet for what must have been a number of minutes. He watched her without staring, but without looking away. She was cold, unsure, and confused. It was interesting to see, of course, but more than that; it was important. Sephiroth. Jenova. Things were coming back. _Again_. "Do you have that communication transponder with you?" he asked at last, in a flat voice.   
She reached into her pocket and presented the device to him in her palm. It was clear he was going to see what Cloud thought. But it was interesting to note that he wanted to do so himself.   
Vincent lightly cupped her hand in his metal one, placing his flesh and blood hand on top of the communication device. Even through his metal limb, he could feel the heat coming off of her. "Do you mind if I take this for a while?"   
"No." She answered honestly. His claw felt like ice against her skin, and the fact that he had more or less pinned her there was making her feel less and less at ease. There was no _reason_ to feel trapped, and she knew that. But an undeniable part of her felt it anyway.   
"Did you tell Rodger yet?" he sounded nearly disinterested.   
"No." She responded again.   
"Maybe you both ought to stay here for a few days. I'm sure Laguna wouldn't mind."   
There were too many ways to interpret that to just let it go. "That bad, huh?"   
He slowly took in a deep breath, thinking it over. "I don't know. But I'm... concerned."   
There was fear in her eyes, but it was cold; frozen over. His tone and this whole conversation... she swallowed, taking a moment to make sure she was calm and composed. What else was there to say? "Okay."   


Kyrie found Rodger in the secluded coffee nook that stood more or less halfway between Vincent's office and Laguna's. Of course, he didn't really drink coffee. Couldn't stand the taste of the stuff. He felt that was simply a good place to wait for her. And, considering the time of day, they'd have relative privacy. Laguna had gone off to handle a number of things Kiros was freaking about, so they had practically no worry of being interrupted. It was a good place to have waited--and he certainly felt he needed to wait for her. He didn't ask what had happened, but prodded her with a glance just the same.   
She was the picture of calm as she walked up to him, turned and stood beside him. There was nothing else she could have been, really. She knew very well he could see through it, and there was no need to try and soften the blow. "Vincent is worried. I told him about the nightmare... and he wants us to stay here for a while. And find out what Cloud thinks."   
Any other person would not have heard the delicate shiver of her voice as the last words were spoken. But no one else had ever heard her talk so much, maybe. Hardly anyone else knew how to read that ice, that hard coldness that worked like a dam to hold back the things she refused to show. "Did you find out anything yet?"   
"Jenova." She whispered without looking at him. "I... that's all I know. At least, I think so."   
"Tell me about the dream." He more suggested than ordered, moving a little closer. He would have to work _very_ hard to retain himself through this, he already knew. As she took a deep breath to begin, he casually wrapped an arm around her and listened.   


Vincent had taken the long way around the building and to Laguna's office, instinctually leaving the couple alone. Sure there was a chance he could run into that maddening Jilly woman, but it was one he would take at this moment. He'd made his communication with Cloud as quick as possible, and he'd agreed. Steps needed to be taken, right now, just in case.   
Venturing into the door without an announcement, he was polite but blunt, as he felt he absolutely had to be. Wasted time could result in consequences he'd rather not consider. "Excuse me, sir, this is pretty important. And private. Can we talk?"   
The president paled a little. "Of course. Do you mind, Kiros?"   
What a question. "Not at all. Talk to you later." He nodded to Laguna, then to Vincent, and walked out of the room.   
Laguna had a startled puppy look about him as he stood in greeting. "Sit. Tell me all about it."   
He didn't exactly feel like sitting for the illusion of a friendly exchange, but certainly had the feeling Laguna ought to be sitting down for this news. He waited for the president to be seated before he began. "It's out of concern for Kyrie."   
A heavy weight struck President Loire's stomach as he heard that. "Y-yes?"   
The former Turk knew this wasn't going to be easy. He wasn't used to communicating with anyone in the first place, but this was far more difficult. "I think something is going wrong, frankly. She's had nightmares recently that could mean something... very bad."   
There were nearly tears in the man's eyes. "Oh." He managed with a bit of difficulty, trying to control himself. The memories that always rested at the back of his mind suddenly catapulted to the forefront. His wife, his son, his son-in-law... not his granddaughter too...   
Vincent took a curt breath and continued. "I think it would be a good idea if you located Cloud Strife's satellite and brought him back to the planet for a little while. But it must be an absolutely private issue."   
Laguna nodded slowly. "Alright." He agreed, his voice rough. This would take some doing, money-wise. But Kiros would think of something. "Is there... anything else you can tell me?"   
The red-eyed man began wishing he was still in a state of emotional suspension. It was hard to look the president in the eyes at this point. "Not until I'm sure, I don't believe. But I would like to request she and Rodger be kept here, under surveillance. It may well be nothing."   
Laguna swallowed back everything threatening to pour out onto any unsuspecting victim. "Yes, that's fine. I'll arrange everything and let you know."   
"Thank you, sir." Vincent ended the conversation quickly by standing up. "I'll return the favor." He walked out before anything else could be asked.   
As the door closed, Laguna made certain to lock it from his desk panel. "Kyrie..." he croaked in a sobbing whisper. Wasn't it supposed to be over now? For good? Not another one. Not again.   


Vincent was rather surprised to see Kyrie just sitting in his office chair, waiting. He assumed she'd have been... well, just about anywhere else. And with Rodger, at that. Her normally inseparable companion was nowhere to be found, and she looked like she'd been quite comfortable for a number of minutes at least.   
She met his questioning glance and responded, "He took the Jet to get some stuff from the house."   
He nodded slowly, closing the door behind. No need to drag this situation out. "Cloud Strife is coming down for the time being."   
While she was really and truly elated about that... "Great, but... why?"   
"We are both very concerned about you." He sat down across from her. So that's what the other chairs felt like. Not hardly as comfortable as his, but it may be in bad taste at the moment to ask Kyrie to move. "The Jenova cells... I think they might be mutating."   
She swallowed, forcing the fear to subside for the time being. This didn't sound good, not in the least. She found that she really had nothing to say in response; unusual for her.   
Vincent continued, seeing that startled look cross her eyes before the ancient cold began to freeze them over. "Sometimes there's seemingly no trigger at all, and they can still mutate while they're inside. It's been a very long time, but I can only assume it's as true now as it was when I was infected."   
She unconsciously rubbed her forearms, a chill running through her entire body. "What... what else do you know?"   
"Not much." He admitted. "It may have to do with Mako exposure, as well. I wasn't exposed to that much, unlike Cloud and Sephiroth. But I did have a lot of Jenova cells. The lack of a steady stream of Mako might have a correlation to the mutations."   
She closed her eyes for a moment, letting this information fall over her. "Aren't the Materia pure forms of Mako?"   
"Yes, but they don't get strong enough to border on Mako poisoning. I happen to know there's a correlation between that and a lack of the mutation, as well." If only he'd known back then, he may have paid more attention to Hojo's research.   
She hated this. She absolutely fucking _hated_ this feeling encompassing her. Rodger was not beside her for this, weird in itself. He'd be back in no time, she knew, but... it just wasn't right. And all this shit happening, and no one knew what it was... It was giving her a distasteful, almost helpless feeling that sank into the depths of her stomach. She was momentarily convinced she'd never be able to eat again.   
"It's important to remember that I really don't know for certain what's going on." He tried to be reassuring without resorting to false hope. That could be much worse. "So don't worry just yet."   
She swallowed and took another deep, silent breath. What the hell was she supposed to say? Or do? Or react with? "I knew it was too good to be true."   
To her surprise, Vincent grinned. "Now that's the attitude to have." As he took a breath to make a fatal quip, something in his pocket chimed. For four years he'd had this damned phone, given to him by Laguna for important security matters. And yet this would be the first time it was ever used. That was mostly because the president had no problems with walking up to him and telling him things rather than calling, but the fact remained that it took him a while to realize what the hell the noise was. As it finally struck him, he pulled the phone out of his pocket and fumbled with the buttons until something beeped. "Hello?"   
"Vincent." Laguna greeted curtly, his throat sounding raw. "He'll be touching down in two hours. It's at highest priority. I'll need you to take care of the logs, Kiros will take care of the rest." In a completely uncharacteristic move, he hung up instantly upon that last word.   
The surprising behavior gave Vincent pause before he hung up and placed the phone back in his pocket. He'd hoped very much that he handled the situation with the president as well as he could. It was simply that time could not afford to be wasted... his thoughts were casually smacked aside with Kyrie's piercing stare. "Two hours. I have to go make sure things are secure."   
She nodded slowly, understanding. Even with high priority, only two hours? It must be _very_ high priority. That did just the opposite of setting her at ease. But, taken at face value, Cloud was going to visit. That was fantastic. She could call him names in person. She finally realized she was being watched closely, some sort of general consensus of the situation being either expected or asked for. "Landing area in two hours then?"   
He nodded once, then went straight for the door. Damn emotions. They were difficult things to control after a while. And he certainly didn't want to see this ordeal getting any worse.   


Kyrie found places to stroll for those two hours. After all, the estate was like a maze, and with several floors on top of that. Sure she'd been a little worried about running into that psychotic non-freak that looked after the transportation office, but at this point in time, she had nothing to lose by being rude. Hell, if anything was an excellent excuse, it was insanity.   
What a thought. She couldn't hold it back as she wandered. The dream, the mirror, the shiver that simply wouldn't leave her... Yes, Vincent and Cloud were right to be concerned. She was a little "concerned" herself. She was trying desperately not to think about it as she attempted to lose herself on the third floor, getting some odd looks from people who usually never ran into her.   
She found, through trial and error, that she could actually get around and to where she wanted to go if she just took the time to remember where she'd been. It sounded quite obvious on the outside, but she'd never really needed to realize it before. Hell, she found her way to the cafeteria in no time--even though she couldn't have possibly eaten. It was rare her nerves actually got to her, rarer still that she got nervous at all. These were pretty fucking exceptional circumstances, though.   
A quick glance at the clock got her on her way; and, praise Hyne, reunited her with Rodger. He'd just come off the lift as she was walking by, a bag in each hand and a little out of breath. She didn't wait for him to ask before informing him, "Cloud's due to touch down about now."   
"Already?" he asked, stepping to follow her. Hell, the bags weren't that heavy. He could lug them around until he found someone to pawn them off on.   
"Yeah." She confirmed under her breath. She hadn't meant it to come out that way, but... that nervousness kind of closed in after a while.   
Rodger took a moment to drop the luggage, offering her the silent, warm comfort of a hug. It wasn't much, he knew. Hell, it probably seemed cheap and a shoddy effort at best, but... it was heartfelt. He wanted her to know he was there for her, through anything. Dammit, they'd get through this, whatever it was.   
She returned it, understanding without the need for any words. It far from calmed her, but... it did help. They shared the slightest brush of a kiss and were off again, down the hall and to the "hidden" landing area. It was another of those just in case sort of places that everyone knew about but no one thought about, and hopefully no one would remember. If this was quick and everything was done right and to code, so to speak, no one would know any better. That's where Kiros and Vincent came in, disguising records and telling people who asked that it was just a meteorite. Perhaps not the most glamorous parts of their jobs, but important all the same.   
I.D.s shown and confirmed, they were ushered below ground level via secret lift and into the dock to wait. What became immediately clear as the door locked behind them was the fact that top secret things needed just a little more funding. The little room contained absolutely nothing but a grid of monitors and two keyboards. Not that it really _needed_ anything else, but... a chair might be nice.   
Luckily, they didn't have to wait long enough to need chairs. Perfectly on schedule, the tracking system began to blip. Two specialists worked on the keyboards to bring everything in smoothly while three guards stationed themselves; one at the dock door and two at the outside door. All they had been told was that there was a box inside the seal that was to be guarded and was _never_ to be opened or the entire universe would turn to dust. Laguna could have a very good imagination when he needed to.   
Kyrie and Rodger watched the monitors, finally seeing a speck in the blue sky. As it got bigger, so did a tail of gleaming fire behind it until just the shape of the seal and the ship that was sent out to get it could be seen. As it entered the lower atmosphere, the ship's thrusters ignited and turned so that the speed lessened and lessened until it touched down softly, right outside.   
Mechanical arms went to work on the bolts that held the seal shut. The seal itself was still so hot that even through the three feet of metal walls and a twenty yard hallway that separated the docking chamber, the temperature began to rise. Good thing the funds for the place had included air conditioning.   
Two by two the bolts were released and collected, working from bottom to top. The "greeting party" watched the monitors closely, the last two bolts having been removed. Slowly, the mechanical arms twisted and reset themselves into what looked to be two large keys. One pressed itself into the slot on one side, and the other did the same on the opposite side. Together, they twisted. The front of the pod opened from the top and fell slowly downward, a fine mist of compressed air shielding whatever was hidden within for just long enough to have made everyone hold their breath.   
As the mist dissipated, what could only be Cloud Strife waved his hands in all directions so he could see what was ahead of him. Upon noticing a camera pointed right at him... he waved and smiled like he was going to be broadcast all around the world.   
While this made his friends smile, everyone else in the room was struck dumb. They'd been told to look after a _box_. Not this... very strange impossibility of science in a number of ways, not least of which was the hair.   
"It's alright." Kyrie informed them. "He's safe with us."   
Well, she got some stares after that. But, she was Laguna's granddaughter. They hoped she knew what she was doing. The sealed doors on either side of the docking hallway began to turn and creak open, completely clearing the mist from the monitors. Out _hopped_, quite literally, Cloud Strife. It'd been a while since he'd actually walked, so his feet were just a little liable to do things he didn't want them to. No matter, he'd made it back, safe and sound and gazing upon friends he wasn't sure he'd ever be able to see again. While the others looked on in stunned horror, the three companions pretended like they were the only ones there.   
Kyrie had no idea just how glad she'd be to see Cloud. Maybe absence makes the heart grow fonder or some other over-used tripe.   
"Lost some weight?" he joked almost viciously.   
She gave him a half serious glare. "Well, no goddamn hug for that."   
He looked brutally wounded for a fraction of a second before coming right back, arms open. "Aw, come on." Human contact would take come getting used to again. Especially with this bunch of freaks. Granted it was a group of freaks with which he belonged, but still...   
"I'm willing to bet your muscles are slightly atrophied, so you better not come any closer." She warned in good humor.   
Good point. "Fine, fine." He winked at her, then turned to greet her better half with a big smile. "Rodger. Been surviving this one?" he casually darted his thumb in Kyrie's general direction.   
Rodger leaned in and whispered loudly, "Yes. But not well."   
The blonde grinned and clasped his whole arm to shake it. "Well, glad to hear it."   
The door to the estate opened, the slightly late palace head of security walking through. Cloud felt as if perhaps his jaw had just disengaged from the rest of his skull and fallen to the ground. He was... shocked. He'd never seen Vincent in anything but his "vampire gear", as it'd come to be known in his own mind. "Holy fu--... Vincent. You look... different."   
The man grinned widely, which further amazed his former companion. "Not... _that_ different."   
Cloud did not say, _Now you and Kyrie look _exactly_ like father and daughter._ He settled upon, rather, "What have you got to eat around here?"   


It seemed for a time that the cafeteria didn't hold enough food. Plate after plate of everything and anything was completely decimated, and early orders for food supplies were suddenly being sent out. The suppliers must have been under the impression that some sort of feast was underway at the presidential palace.   
Kyrie, Rodger and Vincent simply sat together at the other side of the table, watching in disbelief. Anatomy and science proved nothing of this. Proved just the opposite, really. If consulted, physicists would faint at the sight.   
After almost an hour of this truly frightening behavior, Cloud leaned back in ecstasy. After a long, deep, contented sigh, he stated, "Now it hurts."   
"It ought to." Vincent commented, crossing his arms. "You'll probably be expected to work the bill off."   
For just a moment, there was a look of sheer terror on the blonde's face. He wasn't used to the pale man _joking_ with him. Come to think of it, he wasn't quite as pale as he used to be. Weird, just weird. "Just put it on my tab. I'm sure I owe lots of other people, too."   
"Luckily most of them are dead." Kyrie stated flatly.   
Cloud chuckled at that, making a halfhearted attempt at sitting up straight, then collapsing back into the chair to support his body. "I'm still not used to gravity." He gazed at the ceiling for a moment, collecting his thoughts. There was a drunkenness that came with a really good meal--or several of them. "So... what's the plan, Valentine?"   
Vincent took a breath before beginning. "Well... there isn't much of one just yet. These two are staying in the estate. You'll have a room on one side of theirs, I'll take the one on the other." He lowered his gaze. "Then we wait."   
Even the sweet buzz of a full stomach wasn't enough to dull that ache. Wait. Wait for what? Did _anyone_ know? Nothing was confirmed as of yet, but... still. He knew enough to be concerned. And he was sure he'd get filled in with the details soon enough.   
Though she had thought it impossible, Kyrie's stomach tightened even more with those words. Rodger's fingers delicately passed over her hand, but it was little comfort to the whole idea. Stay here and be watched. That wasn't... fun. Not that any of this was supposed to be fun, but Cloud's arrival was supposed to be a happier thing. Or so she'd thought, at least.   
"Let's get you two moved in, then." Vincent instinctually cut off the thought process. "I'll bet the president arranged some nice ones for us."   
Speaking of Laguna, where was he? She knew that when he'd gotten bad news, he usually locked himself in his office for a while to get a clear head and think it over. But he hadn't come to greet Cloud. And there was no word from him at all since he'd called Vincent three hours earlier. As if she didn't have enough to worry about, she knew, but that didn't change things. Not that she herself felt very reassured, but she hoped she could cheer her grandfather up a little bit. Or see him soon, at least.   


"Nice" rooms nothing. They got three in a row in the presidential guest suite. As Rodger stepped inside the one in the middle, the bags crashed to the ground. It was like every unreal advertisement for the most expensive hotels he'd seen throughout his life, all rolled into one and made ten times better. The main room had three leather couches and a huge picture window that looked out over the old part of the city, opening onto a huge balcony. There was a bedroom fit for a god to one side, and a bathroom that may as well have been advertised as including a swimming pool. It was _nice_ without being gaudy.   
"I've got to hand it to the decorator." Kyrie commented after the long silence.   
"Mine better be this nice." Cloud stated. A moment later, he darted out the door to check for himself.   
"Nice honeymoon suite, isn't it?" Vincent grinned suggestively.   
Rodger stared at him blankly for a moment. "You're not helping as much as you think you are."   
That comment caused Kyrie to laugh, quite hard. Damn but it felt good to. The glory of having friends...   
"I'll try not to take that personally." Vincent joked. "I'll leave you two for the moment. I'm hoping to have gotten something bigger, myself." He turned and walked out before anyone had the chance to throw that comment back at him.   
Kyrie darted into the bedroom and took a running leap at the bed. Hell, it's what one did in a hotel. Not that this was a hotel. This was by far better. So, taking that into account, she hoped the quality of the beds was that much better as well. The initial body slam bounce had gone quite well, so she quickly unzipped her boots and continued her bedspring inspection.   
"Ah, that maturity." Rodger quipped. The temptation was too great, however. After a few more bounces, he leapt and pounced her before she could bounce again.   
"Now is not the time." She grinned, wriggling from underneath him and sitting at his side. "It is nice, isn't it?"   
"_Very_." He took her moment of looking around to compose his thoughts into one easy question. "How's everything?"   
She took a deep breath, then turned to face him. "A little dizzy." She joked at first. "Alright I guess. So far so good and all that."   
Something... something in her manner had changed. It felt almost as if maybe she'd dropped her shoulders, but she clearly hadn't; it _felt_ like how that action _looked_, as if that made any sense. He regarded this subtle change with a worried curiosity until she'd grasped his hand.   
"Kyrie..." he whispered, knowing better. He saw her eyes _change_. Just for the fraction of a second, just enough to start to give him that terror chill. Green eyes crossed just for a moment in the place of her crimson ones. He moved--but whatever had encompassed her was faster. He couldn't stifle the cry as he _felt_ the bones in his wrist grinding together, her sickening sweet touch turning deadly violent...   


She "woke up", suddenly and instantly, having her arms held painfully behind her back, being restrained in the exceptionally strong arms of a former Turk. The sudden onset of complete nothingness and then pain was almost too much a shock to handle. "Uncle!" she squeaked in submission, feeling one shoulder on the verge of ripping from the socket.   
Vincent immediately released his death grip, but kept his metal hand clamped securely around her wrist--just in case. He was certain she'd "come to", so to speak, but there was no telling exactly what was actually going on.   
When the pain softened to a dull ache, what had just happened flashed across her mind--she'd very nearly shattered Rodger's wrist. It was like living someone else's memory. In fact, that's exactly what it was. She closed her eyes for lack of any better way to escape the moment. Had she let that happen? She hadn't been in control. She hadn't been... _there_... This thing, this consciousness inside of her had used her body...   
"Are you alright, Ky?" Vincent's voice was soft behind her.   
"Fuck no." She admitted flatly. "You should have snapped my arm like a twig."   
Whether that had been a suggestion or a passing thought, he didn't care to ask. He'd been partially right about this situation, he discovered. But that didn't ease a damn thing. 


	5. Chapter 5

"Retribution Nor Redemption" and the general overall concept of "Retribution Nor Redemption" is completely copyright Orin Drake 2002, as are the characters Kyrie Leonhart and Rodger Kinneas. The characters Seifer Almasy, Squall Leonhart, Quistis Trepe, Ellone (Leonhart?), Laguna Loire and Rinoa "The Great Big Bitch" Heartily (biased? me?) are copyright Squaresoft, as are the terms SeeD, gunblade, Trabia Garden, Griever, and probably a lot of other stuff I forgot to mention. Hell, if you played the game, you know. Enough said.   
Background: Well. Here is the "anticipated" sequel to The Sins of Two Fathers. This won't be as much action as it will be psychological warfare, I think. Don't know what else to tell you. Beware bad language, sexuality and social outcasts having fun regardless of their status at the expense of others.   
  
  


Retribution Nor Redemption   
Chapter 5   
by Orin Drake 

Vincent's metal hand lightly dropped from her wrist, but she didn't move away. She just didn't move. Her eyes were shut and her feet were set where they were. In a heartbeat, like a switch being turned off and on, there then not then there... What the living fuck had just happened?   
Rodger's bruised wrist was in the care of his other hand as he cast his eyes downward. There had been no warning, not a clue given before those eyes--he remembered them. Sephiroth's. Her dream, _that_ dream, Vincent's concern...   
"No warning." The man confirmed as if it had been spoken. He didn't need to be told.   
Kyrie's lips parted to ask a question... then pressed back together with a cold chatter of teeth. The world whirled and stopped, leaving her to fly off the surface or tumble to the ground--it was a good thing Vincent had been so close. She'd rather have not thought of what may have happened had he not been... Her teeth were clenched, unable, unwilling to ask or answer, to anyone, to anything. She sensed Cloud's eyes on her from the doorway, but didn't dare open her own to look his direction. Stillness. She just needed some stillness to collect herself, and then she could continue.   
Vincent allowed her that much. But this... he caught Rodger's gaze and very lightly jerked his head to the side. With a painful swallow, the boy obeyed; he slowly lifted off the bed and walked out, letting Cloud be the one to close the door behind them.   
Alone with her, Vincent took a moment to relax himself. This wouldn't be easy on either side. But this was beyond necessary, to do _now_. His voice was cautious, low. "Are you carrying Materia?"   
Her heart skidded from a race to a stop. She knew what he meant to do, and it fucking _hurt_. Her voice was sleek and monotone, as she forced it to be. "Ultima and Fire. Rodger has Ice." Or _had_ Ice... she was sure right now Cloud was getting that one back.   
"Kyrie..." his voice was very gentle, but prodding. He knew he didn't need to voice it. He just waited.   
With a deep breath, she finally opened her eyes. But she couldn't face him just yet. She reached inside of herself and felt the Materia that had been a part of her for so long, that she'd practiced with and learned quite well in training grounds... and held her palms out. Taking hold of them with her mind, their energy passed from the center of her chest to either hand until two glowing balls of green fire floated above her hands.   
Empty. Hyne, she felt so... empty without them there. Even colder. They'd been a part of her for so long that the separation caused a pulsating pain that thrummed against her temples for several seconds. But she knew this was for the best in many respects. Painful though it was... she turned and offered them over, avoiding eye contact. Just one look might throw her into an emotional spiral. She didn't think that was best at the moment.   
It was just as painful to need to accept the Materia again. He'd held Lightning already for so long, but when the other two absorbed into his palms, it was like trying to stop a train with your bare hands. She'd done very well with these, certainly. But even then... even then... It wasn't over yet. He gazed at her quietly, patiently.   
There was a gut wrenching expression on her face as much as she tried to hide it. She unbuckled all of the straps from her leg, then the belt. Handing over her gunblade, her weapon of choice, the most treasured gift she'd ever received from her parents--_Eleison_... It proved a little too much for her. She could neither make eye contact, nor speak. Just held out the gunbelt and the whole shebang, waiting for him to take it.   
It quite literally stung him to have to do this. Her precious weapon held out to him freely, not to mention his own gunbelt of centuries ago... She was so expert, so capable of using it; but that was why he had to take it away. He actually had to bite the inside of his cheek to retain a stony composure, biting harder just to keep his hand from shaking as he clasped it around her surrendered objects. So meek, she was forced to be. It was... pathetic. And it certainly wasn't her.   
As her things were taken from her hands, she wrapped her arms around herself and backed away. That was also not like her, not at all. But she couldn't help it. She didn't want to help it. She'd never been so... open and exposed. So... fucking helpless, she felt. Cold, so utterly cold...   
And so the watching and waiting was to begin. Already there was awkwardness--though they were both pretty well aware that it was the least of their problems. Vincent sighed inwardly and stepped toward her, placing his flesh and blood hand lightly on her shoulder. No words; no want of them, no need for them. They merely walked to the door.   


An unexpected sight met their eyes as Vincent swung the door open; at the other end of the main room was a _huge_ television screen that had been hidden in the wall, towering above the three technicians that seemed to be slaving away at various connections and wires. Cloud stood off to the side, proudly supervising the operation. Rodger was crouched near the screen, going through a rolling book caddy that was filled with what appeared to be... video game cartridges.   
Noting the questioning looks, Cloud turned and announced, "I thought we could use some distractions. And I'm going to kick all of your asses at the fighters."   
Vincent let a slight smile lay across his face. Thoughtful, certainly. At least it would be a nice escape. He was well aware of Kyrie's slight video game addiction. Every once in a while she'd have little kids bawling at the Esthar Arcade Works downtown. Well, not literally. Except for that once, but that was a pretty ugly scene to begin with. He left the three of them for just a moment to be distracted by the "new toys" so he could store Kyrie's belongings away without being too obvious.   
Rodger looked up with childish glee as he grasped one cartridge in particular, all previous events seemingly forgotten. "_Ki Rin Saga_!" he cried. "I found _Ki Rin Saga_!"   
Kyrie couldn't help but be a little bit shocked. "Damn, that's... ten years old."   
"And rare." Her boyfriend, overcome by video game bliss, breathed. "I lost mine a long time ago. Now I shall defeat you again, King Mesquer... you will _die_ by the lightning sword and I will bathe in your blood..."   
One of the techs stopped what he was doing to glance up, then back away. Obviously not much of the video game player, regardless of knowing how to hook them up.   
"And that's just for the old system." Cloud was beginning to catch this game fever, having been forced to play them on only a hand-held device for far too long. "We've also got games for the new one coming."   
"Sweet." Kyrie had begun to feel noticeably better about this whole situation. Hell, hours of video games? It made going insane seem like some nice long vacation. And she'd kick everyone's asses with the racing games.   
"And..." Cloud added, indicating a small intercom device on the wrought iron and marble coffee table, "We've got the cafeteria on call."   
"Okay." She steadied herself. "Okay." She said again, collecting her thoughts as she saw Vincent stroll back into the room. "Let me get this straight. We are going to be locked in here, for possibly days, with all the video games we could ever ask for, hot and cold running soda and snacks, and meals at whim." _Why_ was she dreading this just a moment ago?   
Vincent gave his old friend a momentary approving smile. Little was more important in these circumstances than proper distractions. And, hell, he'd enjoy this, too.   
Finished, the lead tech gave everyone a nod, then got the hell out of there. All of the others were quick to follow, not sure what was going on and not wanting to know. The freaks could have their privacy.   
Taking the whole damn world in stride, Kyrie walked over to Rodger's side and sat down, digging through the cartridges and disks with him. This was nice of them. This was a really pleasant thing to have done in the circumstances. She tried desperately to ignore the fact that these were mere distractions while the bigger things were possibly going to happen--that was a little matter compared with how much Gil she'd make on game bets. "Okay, _Turbo Racer 4_ is a four player game. Who's with me?"   


Video games on a giant screen are akin to religious experiences. At least so said the players. Vincent sat out for the first couple of races, just watching. As the tracks became increasingly difficult (and Kyrie was holding back just enough to make her skill level appear less than it actually was) and the cars more stylish, they finally talked him into trying.   
_That_ was when Kyrie started the betting, and pulled out the big guns. Rodger was her perfect straight man, pretending expertly that she was not about to hustle her own friends. Imaginary Gil laid out and agreed upon, the race began. They peeled out at the same time, zooming down the track. Rodger took first, holding fast to the inside of the turns. Kyrie waited carefully in last place until the straightaway--then she hauled out with everything she had, having plenty of experience with the game, the cherry red sports car, and the track. In fact, Rodger knew she had named the car she used every time: Devastator. Turn after turn she took the road and even the three loops, shifting, turning, barely braking. The end was near.   
And then the sleek black car that Vincent had selected came up next to her. At the cost of having a chunk of the winnings taken away, he _bumped_ her at the very end to knock her into second place.   
As the places were shown with fanfare and upbeat techno music, Kyrie simply stared at him for a number of seconds. "You just wait until track ten, when we get machine guns."   
He took her advice to heart with a grin. "But track twenty gives you rocket launchers."   
"Damn you." She halfway joked, using her second place game winnings to purchase a better engine.   


_Turbo Racer 4_ was literally played for hours. The four of them raced for so long that the game system had begun to overheat and flashed a small warning on the screen that if they didn't save and shut down, that the game cartridge could melt. Frankly that was the only thing that saved them from an all-out all or nothing racing _war_. They'd even gone beyond rocket launchers to get homing missiles _and_ land mines, having spent _millions_ of imaginary Gil on imaginary engine repair; not to mention how much imaginary Gil they'd bet against one another. Hell, Cloud and Rodger were actually giving the two resident experts a run for it by the end, taking some pretty good portions of the winnings for themselves.   
At the game system's warning, however, they were all pretty much forced to save and drop their controllers or suffer total meltdown. That was quite alright, though. They all had hand cramps by that time, not to mention circulation in their legs cut off from sitting on the floor, and there had been a lot of soda passed around.   
Kyrie was utterly blunt. "Is it okay to take a leak by myself?"   
"I don't think we need to observe that." Vincent joked.   
"_Good_." She responded with a grin.   
Rodger waited until he heard the bathroom door close. "What happened?" he asked quietly without looking up from unplugging the game console.   
Vincent knew he was talking about the incident that he himself had interrupted hours before just by the tone of the boy's voice. He took a deep breath, trying to collect his own thoughts. "Momentary loss of control." He began simply.   
"To _what_?" Rodger interrupted softly.   
A glance passed between the two old friends again, Cloud feeling his heart sink too much to recover by another soda alone. The head of palace security could almost feel that chill that Kyrie had been suffering from fall over himself. "I'm not... entirely certain. But if you have any information to offer, I'd be grateful."   


Well, a successful bathroom break without incident. The thought forced a deep smirk on her face as she washed her hands. This sucked all the way around. As she grasped the towel, her entire being locked up. She usually looked in the mirror when she left the bathroom, making sure she looked presentable. But this time... she really didn't want to. It was ridiculous, of course, but...   
She took a deep breath and hung the towel back up, steadying herself. It was silly. It had happened once, and that was probably just her imagination anyway. That dream had been... entirely too real. She closed her eyes with the mere memory of it, trying to banish it from her head long enough to have a little more fun with her friends without the need for this shit. Almost in defiance, she opened her eyes.   
Just her image. Though her heart pounded, it was just her image in the mirror. Silly of her to have worried. She brought her hand up to delicately sweep some hair out of her face--but sort of lost it along the way. She actually _felt_ the moment of the loss of control this time around. It was numb and cold, bitter pin-prick pain across her knuckles. Or maybe that was because she'd just punched the mirror. She tried to pull her hand back, but her muscles would not respond. Instead, like she was watching the moments of another person, the mirror image--fuck, it was _her_!--took one of the larger shards from the spider web breaks.   
Before panic had the opportunity to intrude, a voice fell over her mind. In truth it was more a _presence_ wrapping itself around her than a voice, but it spoke to her just the same. **_Go ahead. Make a mess. Make a scene._**   
Regardless of having lost complete control of one hand, Kyrie hissed viciously in her own head, _Whatever you are: _fuck_, _off_._   
She felt the presence constrict on her very consciousness as it burst into a grating sound she barely recognized as laughter. Her hand flexed on its own, grasping the shard only tightly enough to feel the sharp edges. **_You tempt me._**   
_Then just kill me and get it over with._ She responded.   
**_I won't let you die._** The voice hissed, forcing her hand to ride the puppet strings and place the shard of glass against her own neck. **_It's not pleasant to lay there, bleeding dry._**   
_What the fuck would you know about it?_ Kyrie growled, trying desperately to escape the hold of her own hand. It was impossible. Her body would _not_ respond to her commands. A completely random thought crossed her mind: _Is this what happened to Sephiroth?_   
The voice responded in a laughing way, forcing just the tip of the glass into the flesh, bringing a single drop of blood to the surface. **_He was already quite willing by the time I got to him._** The voice changed all of a sudden, into one all too familiar to her. **_Maybe this is better?_**   
The response only confirmed that this presence was Jenova. But it was hearing the perfect Squall impersonation that chilled her further. _I _know_ that's not Squall._   
**_ You know _now_._** The perfect mimic of her dad's voice cackled. **_But not when I'm done._**   
The shard was thrust deep into her neck, but Kyrie was unable to cry out. She could control nothing of her body any longer, but could certainly feel the pain. Blood gushed in hot streams and the wound burned fiercely.   
**_Not enough?_** the sadistic creature still shrieked in Squall's voice. **_Maybe you'd like me there with you, little girl._**   
Kyrie felt as if her mind went completely numb for a moment--as though all things ceased and started up again. But when they did, she _saw_ Squall in front of her instead of the shattered remnants of the mirror. The shard was in his hand, now, and his face was twisted into an evil she knew her real dad could never be capable of. In control of her own limbs at last, she tried to push him away. It was no use. There was only resistance and cold. She was beginning to realize the full extent of Jenova's control; that beast could make anyone believe anything with enough time, illusions, and pain.   
The fake Squall shoved her downward, tearing the shard away from her throat and landing on top of her, hard. She _felt_ her shoulders connect with ground underneath. She _felt_ all of his weight on top of her, the jarring of landing so quickly. She could fucking _smell_ his subtle cologne. How this could be just an illusion--   
She looked into those godawful predatory eyes. They were the color of Squall's, but they certainly were not his. Convincing, but not enough. Hyne, but the use of her father as this insane monster's mask was enough of a mind fuck--and it must have been able to read that. There were no prisoners to be taken, nothing to be spared or barred; Jenova aimed to shatter her mind as well as her senses. The Squall-thing clasped a hand tightly around her throat, slowing the flow of blood but choking off the air. It laughed like a grainy, stretched cassette tape at her weakening efforts to fight.   
And she did _fight_. This was no "lady" situation; she _slammed_ the toe of her boot between its legs--and hit something resembling steel wrapped in flesh. It _hurt_, and that intensified the fear. She used her hands to claw at its face, her body writhing and twisting to escape its hold, but there wasn't so much as a mark left behind when the world began to fizzle out at the edges. Just that scratching, unreal laughter and the choking; the cooling spill of her own blood in a sticky puddle underneath her that she could _smell_. The fight was being _wrung_ from her, _bled_ from her, and another kick barely managed to connect let alone carry any force.   
At that moment, she witnessed those false blue eyes change--false no longer. Green. Unnatural, bright, silted green. She could do nothing but gasp, nothing but panic in the reaches of the sheer color that was coming closer, enveloping her entirely--   
The creature with her dad's body and Sephiroth's eyes mockingly pressed its lips against hers. She didn't even have the physical strength to resist against the satirically passionate kiss she was receiving...   
A shattering mind fuck? Oh yes, that was achieved. With absolutely no way to get out of the situation, she ultimately was forced to accept it. Forced to lay back, stop fighting, and fucking _accept_ it.   
As suddenly as it had come, it vanished. The illusion, the voice, the blood, the puppet that looked like Squall--everything. _So that's how it works..._ she thought through the wooziness. _It stops when you accept it..._   
She was left completely alone in the bathroom, still standing, staring into a cracked mirror. Not wanting to but being unable to stop her morbid curiosity, she looked down. Her hand lightly grasped a glass shard with a single smudge of blood at the sharpest end. Only that much had been real. But damn, the rest of it was... beyond imagined. Jenova... Jenova had a great deal of power over her.   
"Wouldn't it be better this way..." she whispered to herself, slowly drawing the glass across her already healed neck. If there were no more life in her to control, then all problems would be solved. She'd be mourned, of course, but they'd get over it eventually. It would save them all one hell of a lot of trouble.   
A bunch of other thoughts popped through her head like bubbles. What if she _couldn't_ die? What if her body could be used just as easily with or without "her" present? What if Jenova wanted her to do just that? It had left her with the glass in her hand, ready to do so, hadn't it? But what if that was just simplistic reverse psychology?   
She moaned louder than she'd expected to, placing the shard on the far corner of the sink. Too many options. She hated her goddamn over-analyzing brain.   
A knock at the door. Of course. What the hell would she say? She swallowed, knowing this may mean... further change. It was more than obvious she was no longer completely in control. "Yes?" she creaked.   
"How long does it take a young lady to take a leak?" Cloud asked.   
She _wanted_ to smile. She really did. But she couldn't. With another steadying breath, she slowly turned the knob and stepped out, keeping the door mostly shut behind her. No eye contact; she didn't think she could possibly make eye contact. She knew without seeing that Vincent and Rodger were only a few feet behind him, waiting. They'd more than likely heard the sharp punch that had broken the glass, but she wondered what else they may have been witness to from the outside. "You might want to call someone to come fix the mirror."   
Silence. Not a breath or a heartbeat interrupted it for several seconds. Vincent's eyes passed over her, seeing no signs of harm on her at all. Right now that was most important; the hows and whys could be handled at another time. Regardless... "Did you injure yourself?"   
"No. I'm okay." She tried to be assertive.   
But everyone heard that waver in her voice. The very way she spoke was distant, aloof. She was clearly trying to _set_ herself so that she could bear a little more of the burden alone. And she didn't want to speak of what she'd just been through. That was... that was beyond a simple nightmare. She could almost taste those imaginary lips that had been far too real, and that alone made her stomach quiver.   
Cloud was possibly struck most of all. Being controlled by something you've got no fucking idea what is, let alone where it came from or why... well, he understood that pretty damn well. Just thinking about it caused a bunch of old shards of memories to catch light. It seemed so long ago--it _was_ so long ago. He closed his eyes for a moment from the onslaught of bits and pieces, enough only to wrack his stomach and make him wish that he hadn't eaten at all.   
Rodger... was numb. Cold and numb like he'd been out in the snow without a coat. So soon, it was escalating far too soon. Too much too quickly, and he found he didn't even _have_ a reaction yet.   
Regardless of the looks, the worry, she walked past them and sat back down where she'd been before this whole mess, taking hold of the still warm controller. "Now, rematch or what?" 


	6. Chapter 6

"Retribution Nor Redemption" and the general overall concept of "Retribution Nor Redemption" is completely copyright Orin Drake 2002, as are the characters Kyrie Leonhart and Rodger Kinneas. The characters Seifer Almasy, Squall Leonhart, Quistis Trepe, Ellone (Leonhart?), Laguna Loire and Rinoa "The Great Big Bitch" Heartily (biased? me?) are copyright Squaresoft, as are the terms SeeD, gunblade, Trabia Garden, Griever, and probably a lot of other stuff I forgot to mention. Hell, if you played the game, you know. Enough said.   
Background: Well. Here is the "anticipated" sequel to The Sins of Two Fathers. This won't be as much action as it will be psychological warfare, I think. Don't know what else to tell you. Beware bad language, sexuality and social outcasts having fun regardless of their status at the expense of others.   
  
  


Retribution Nor Redemption   
Chapter 6   
by Orin Drake 

**_SEVERE WARNING!!!_**   
**_There is nonconsensual activity with what_**   
**_could well be considered someone under age_**   
**_near the end of this chapter! If you can't_**   
**_handle it, stop reading at the area labeled:_**   
**_SQUICK NOTE! Thank you._**

The three gentleman looked at one another. There didn't seem much _to_ do in this circumstance, painful and sickening though that realization was. Vincent caught Rodger's eyes and indicated he go over to his girlfriend with a nod. He then turned to Cloud and tried his best at a casual, low tone of voice. "Go see if you can catch Kiros. Just tell him the mirror needs replaced."   
Rodger's jaw clenched. It was honestly the only part of him that tensed--besides his entire consciousness. How... fucking wrong all of this was, and was going to continue to be. He turned at Vincent's silent suggestion and understood that cold; The Leonhart Freeze, he'd come to know it as. Hell, he wasn't the only one that understood that term, but no one would really... speak it. He sure as hell had seen it enough in the past few hours to fill a lifetime.   
The coldness was that barrier of thought, emotion--demons; almost physical in strength, in form. He could feel it coming up like it sprouted from the earth itself into a long wall of ice, something akin to the stories he'd heard of the Guardian Force, Shiva. Kyrie's shield differed from Squall's by one important variable: it was more for keeping things in than locking things out. And dammit, Rodger appreciated that to a point. He knew she didn't want him to have to suffer through this with her for any reason, at any cost. But he wanted her to know that he didn't need her protection. She needed to look after herself, and he would be okay on his own, too. He knew Vincent would understand these things, but he couldn't fashion the words. He wasn't sure he could speak them with the intensity they carried, anyway. He elected instead to sit down next to her and wrap his arms around her. Just a hug, short and sweet without drama.   
_Damn that boy._ Her mind tried to persuade itself to keep good humor. Damn pride, damn the delusions of strength, and damn The Leonhart Freeze; she closed her eyes and held him back. It was a very short gesture--not showy or one of those romance novel types--but spoke volumes within itself.   
Vincent waited, calculating, until they pulled apart. He didn't want to be the type to interrupt, but... things needed to be said. He was here, he would say them. "Kyrie..." he started gently, but saw her flinch like a child that had been found doing something terribly inappropriate. His gaze was apologetic, but unwavering. "This can't be ignored."   
"I know." She promised very quietly. "I'm not trying to... ignore it." That was a partial lie, and they all knew it. "Just... to bring a bit of normalcy to it until... well, until it can't be any more."   
Vincent nodded, understanding. "Then tell me what happened."   
It made her sick to remember. In truth, the events were fading in and out. But she remembered enough, startlingly clearly, to answer. "I'm... sure it's Jenova. I don't quite know how, but..." she had to pause to collect herself. "Images. Illusion. She was... she was Squall for a while. And it was all so real..." She turned her eyes away, not wanting him to see the pleading in them. She did not want to speak of anything else that had happened. It was enough to remember. To speak of it... it'd be too real, then.   
He got enough from the whole of her response to understand. She was still coherent, that was a good enough sign. "Jenova is probably very weak after that. She'll need time to regenerate."   
"And then?" she barely dared to ask.   
He waited until the mirror of crimson eyes lifted to reflect his own. He needed her to know that he was neither lying nor trying to keep information from her. She would need to retain her trust in all of them, or disaster was eminent. "And then you try to figure out what she wants from you." She was _not_ a weak girl, and he would not treat her as such. There is a line between compassion and sympathy; for all of their sakes, he would be sure not to cross it.   
She nodded, taking his words--and their meaning--to heart. It was nice that they had faith in her ability. She just hoped it wasn't misplaced. The difference between reality and illusion was probably going to get a lot harder to define. Hyne only knew what else that bitch had in store for her.   
"But for now," Vincent casually interrupted her thought process, "Let's get something to eat and I might let you win another race."   


The four friends sat on the leather sofa and watched the big screen television while they ate. It was too hard to eat and grasp a game controller with both hands, so they'd turned back and forth between world news and ridiculous sitcoms. Sure they could have technically all sat down at the actual table to eat, but Kyrie had reasoned that since you don't need silverware to eat pizza, you don't need a table, either. Hey, it made sense at the time.   
Regardless of the welcome amusement shouting at the characters and one another offered, Kyrie noticed that there were some pretty damn fancy cots being placed off to the side of the common room. Her brilliant powers of deduction told her it seemed Vincent nor Cloud would be getting their own rooms to sleep in tonight. Then another thought struck her from behind--there were _three_ cots. Well, of course. After that incident, she certainly couldn't be trusted with Rodger. Especially not in his sleep, and everyone else's... but it still struck her like a lead pipe. She was in absolutely desperate need _not_ to have to focus on that. "Anyone for racing?"   
"Hell yes." Rodger voiced triumphantly, having had a secret whispered in his ear from Vincent while she was focussed on a commercial. It was a dirty trick and a complete glitch in the game's design, but he was going to use it anyway.   
"Okay." Cloud agreed, less than completely enthusiastic. While he had discovered how to pick up speed, he'd also crashed so often that he was edging toward bankruptcy.   
When eyes fell upon him, Vincent grinned vaguely. "I've some work to do, first. But then I'm sure I'll be able to take all of your winnings."   


He left the three of them alone with those words, completely confident in Cloud's ability to handle any situation that may develop. Besides, it would take Jenova time to regenerate enough for another attack of any sort, so things would probably be safe into the next day. He got the sudden urge to knock on wood at that thought, but pushed it away as completely understandable superstition.   
He did have things to accomplish, but they were hardly for work. He'd already placed several competent people that normally served under him directly in charge for an undetermined amount of time. He'd worked with them long enough to know they could handle things, and he wasn't worried.   
Sitting at his desk, he pulled up a Trabia Garden contact page and looked for a specific address. He knew how much Quistis and Kyrie meant to one another. Hell, Instructor Trepe was more or less _the_ female mother figure. A girl gets attached. And he'd met her several times, and liked her. Kyrie had most certainly gotten some of her personality from the woman.   
He sighed quietly, trying to think of exactly what to type. There was absolutely no way he could just call her; that'd have been too difficult for all parties concerned. He was certain Quistis would like to know what was going on, however, and suspected Laguna was in no condition to pass things along.   
And what of the president? He'd heard nothing since that phone call. Probably not the best sign to have hoped for. Perhaps it was for the best at this point, though. Laguna was not the sort that ought to be prodded while under stress.   
With a deep breath, he started typing. He'd leave his number, just in case, but suspected there wouldn't be any calls.   


President Loire stepped slowly, quietly into the corridor. His feet dragged, making a peculiar shifting sound that somehow reminded him of bad times, bad memories. That wasn't good; but he couldn't shake it from his mind.   
Kiros had convinced him to go see his granddaughter. Just for a minute, just to make sure she was okay. Of course, he suspected it was a suggestion more for himself than for her. That was alright, though. Kiros knew how to react in emergencies. Usually.   
That didn't change the fact that he did _not_ want to face Kyrie, though. It wasn't that he was trying to avoid her like a plague, or was even the least bit nervous of her reaction. He _wanted_ to see her, but... It was just... those bad memories welling up again. All of this was supposed to be _over_, dammit. His family had already paid enough of a price to all of these ungodly _wrong_ things... He only knew so much. He only wanted to know so much.   
He barely acknowledged the guards as he shuffled past. Just another few yards and he'd be at the door. And then what? Should he knock? Or ring? Or just wait until maybe someone opened the door and just "happened upon him"?   
He scoffed at his own thought process. Regardless, he still found himself unable to announce his presence. Instead, he leaned against the door and listened. To his astounding surprise, there was loud music and a bit of shouting; not the kind that seemed accusatory or violent, but the joyful sort. How very odd. He could make out only so much of the conversation... Something about "pay up", "broke and it's _your_ fault", "didn't cheat", "did so", and some playful expletives.   
He pulled back with a blank look. How... odd. It's not really what he expected. Now he rather hated to interrupt whatever they were doing with his presence.   
But perhaps Kiros had made a good point. Just by his visiting, he could offer support. Maybe it wasn't much in the grand scheme of things, but... he knew Kyrie. She'd appreciate it. It'd be hard, but... he could do it. With a shaky finger, he pressed the ringer button.   
At first, the sound of the door bell was quite puzzling. It wasn't like the annoying buzzes and beeps of the office. It was... a real door bell. Fancy and pretty in tone, even.   
"This is one hell of a suite." Kyrie commented, muting the television and pausing the game.   
Cloud, taking full advantage of the momentary overlooking of his debt, got up to answer. His face was somber as he gazed upon the visitor, however. He immediately stepped back and ushered the president in. Turning to Rodger, he indicated gently, "I think I'm going to go get some air on the balcony."   
"Me, too." The boy agreed. He placed a soft, reassuring hand on his girlfriend's shoulder for just a moment before following.   
Well that felt awkward. Not in the worst of ways; not the sort that _must_ be broken before it drove one of them over the edge. It was just... weird. As so many things were of late. Obviously being the one visited, Kyrie rose (with mild difficulty, as the game playing position on the floor had once again caused her legs to fall half asleep) and sat on the couch, patting the seat next to her.   
Laguna's breath caught for a moment. _Hold it together..._ he chastised himself quickly. He was here for comfort and support, not a big group cry or anything. With a swallow, he walked over and sat down beside her.   
Noticing his difficulty at starting the conversation, she prodded ever so slightly. "Hey."   
"Hey." He returned, trying his best to smile. "How are you, Kyrie?"   
Oh how it killed her to hear his voice. It was the same slightly gruff, reserved, unsteady tone he'd had when she had to tell him in detail about Seifer and Squall. It hurt just a little bit to hear that, to be the cause of it _again_. He didn't mean it, she knew that--she doubted he knew he was doing it at all. The fact remained, however. "A little tired." She responded honestly.   
He forced another slight smile. "I hope that's a good sign."   
_Oh Hyne, Laguna, please stop worrying about me..._ She did something completely uncharacteristic--grasped his hand between hers. She loved the man, but words alone failed to drive the point home. She desperately needed to assure him of _something_ before _he_ had a breakdown. "Don't worry so much. It'll be okay." She wasn't quite sure which of the two of them she was lying to, but she'd really have liked it to be neither.   
"Can't help it." He admitted softly, placing his other hand over hers so they were equally holding on.   
"I know what you mean." She sighed. "I just... I don't want you to stress over this. You have enough to do, y'know?"   
On some level, he was letting himself be convinced. He knew that, and chose to ignore it for now. "Yeah." He instantly knew that he needed to get out of there before he broke down. "I, uh... I should go. Just wanted to make sure you were being treated alright." He tried in desperation to crack a joke.   
She noticed, but let it slip by. "I'll see you later, okay?"   
"Okay." He breathed, his voice not entirely up to the task. One more attempt at the most sincere smile he could muster, and he was out of there.   


The two enjoying the view from the balcony did their best to pretend not to be watching. All pretense was shot to hell when they saw Laguna leave, however.   
"That was quick." Rodger commented quietly. It fucking hurt to see Kyrie sitting there all alone. She made no move either to look at them, nor the door.   
"Must be hard." Cloud countered in the same tone. Laguna was a... sensitive man. But beyond that, he'd already suffered so much loss. He could imagine; the thought of one more being taken away before his eyes must be pretty awful. It was no picnic for him, either.   
Rodger bit his bottom lip softly, looking out over the city. The very _uncertainty_ of the whole thing was really starting to drive blunt shards into his stomach. If they only knew... it might be bad, but at least they'd _know_ what was happening, would _know_ what to expect.   


Vincent stood at his office window, looking out through the small crack in the blinds. Not much to see out there, that was for sure. But he didn't quite feel like leaving just yet. He knew the only other place he'd go was back to that room... "golden prison" was perhaps the proper term here. It was... concerning.   
The computer behind him made a loud blip, causing him to turn and stare at it. He recognized the sound as being a request to connect one on one for file share or chat sessions. How odd. Walking over, he saw it was a request from Trabia Garden. More specifically, from Instructor Trepe.   
A cold weight fell on his chest. He'd only sent the message moments ago. Checking the clock, however, he noted it was more or less lunch time in Trabia. Reprimanding himself for not having checked that particular detail earlier (what an awful surprise during lunch), he accepted the request and sat down. Several security screens flashed up before the actual text box. It only gave him a moment to prepare himself for her first message: **Just tell me one thing, Vincent.**   
Well that was a little stunning as a first sentence. It might well prove easier than he imagined. **Yes?**   
Only a couple of seconds' wait. She was a fast typist. **Is she O.K.? I mean, I don't know. Is she handling it alright?**   
Now that was an interesting question. **As well as can be expected.** He paused before sending that on; it sounded a bit... heartless. He amended, **I think she's doing remarkably well.**   
**Good.** Quistis responded halfheartedly. **I want to visit, but I really don't think that'd be very helpful for her.**   
He understood that, alright. **Would you like me to tell her you wish her well?**   
**That almost sounds cheap, doesn't it.** Not a question, just a comment aimed at herself. **Yes, though. If you would. Tell her I'm thinking of her. And Rodger, too. And Laguna, and Cloud, and you.**   
He let the corner of his lips raise just slightly at that. **I'll be sure to spread the love, Quistis.**   


When she was good and ready, Kyrie had joined her two "protectors" on the balcony to stare at the nonexistent happenings of the city. Everything seemed a lot more... quiet. Could be a freak thing. Could be the day. Could merely be their perception.   
She had the suspicion it was a little of each. Laguna was in neither mood or condition to be having meetings for a while. When he was feeling bad, it seemed the whole city felt it with him. They might as well, maybe.   
Kyrie bit back that thought as she peered over the edge. It really wasn't that far. Just far enough to keep anyone rational from jumping. She'd begun to wonder just how rational she was, let alone what it might become. It'd be so easy, though... but she forced that thought, too, to bludgeon itself to death. Sure she was concerned for the future, but they still didn't know what the hell was going on. In the end, maybe it was only her grotesque curiosity that was keeping her holding on.   
Ah well. At least they'd catch the sunset. That was always kind of nice. Just as orange touched the sky, she announced in a very calm tone, "You still owe us money, Cloud."   
He stared at her blankly for a few seconds. "That's all you can think about?"   
"Well it's _true._" She dared a mild grin. Turning to Rodger, she continued, "And you're a dirty cheat, just like Vincent."   
"I am not a cheat." They heard the raven haired man in question behind them. "Simply because I know a few tricks."   
"Yeah." Rodger agreed, glad for a bit of humor loosening up the situation. He couldn't help a devious little expression that only his girlfriend picked up on, though.   
"Fine." Kyrie pretended to agree. "But _cheating_, or 'knowing tricks', now comes with a fee."   
Cloud grinned, just happy to know he wasn't the only one owing money. Of course, he was still the only one in debt...   
"Oh... go to bed." Vincent dismissed creatively.   
"The sun just went down, old man!" she quipped.   
"Ooooohh!" the onlookers added their sound effect simultaneously.   
Those involved in the "fray" gave their audience mock disgusted glances. Over dramatically, Vincent threw his flesh hand toward the suite. "Why don't you two go find a movie or something, then?"   
"Yes, Sir." Rodger grinned like a lunatic, bolting inside before he could get an icy glare. Cloud followed suit with a solute and a quick retreat.   
"Smart-assed bastards." She joked before the other had a chance to speak.   
He offered a short chuckle at that comment. The fact remained, however... he paused before the first word left his mouth. A split second ago, she'd been her usual self. Now... it looked as though she were preparing herself for a physical blow. He was starting to get a little sick of delivering the mental ones, himself. With another breath, he continued. "Quistis just wanted you to know she's thinking of you."   
She nodded slowly. "You told her everything?"   
"The basics." More or less the summed-up version of all he knew himself; it wasn't much, but it was... enough.   
"She's staying put?" she had to make sure.   
"Unless you want her to come." He assured, carefully taking everything about her reaction in.   
"Laguna was in here earlier..." she averted her eyes for a moment, feeling slightly nauseous. "It wasn't pretty."   
"I can imagine." He crossed his arms unconsciously, going over that statement. Maybe he couldn't really imagine that from either side. He didn't really want to. He had enough to think about.   
"It's... probably best if no one else makes an attempt to visit." That kind of hurt to say, she realized. She'd have loved her aunt at her side, but... this was bad enough. No one knew what was going to happen, and Rodger had almost... she shook the thoughts off with a shiver.   
"It's getting cold." Vincent lied like an expert. It was a warm night, and yet her chills were coming back. He hadn't had a full-on stomach ache in quite a long time, but he could feel one coming on quickly.   
She saw through it. There was no way she couldn't have. But it was comforting nonetheless. "They better have an action film waiting."   


Two action films, to be precise. Rodger had thought it a good idea to run a little late so they might all actually get some sleep due only to exhaustion. He knew he sure as hell wouldn't be able to sleep unless he was utterly ready to drop.   
Both movies were pretty damn bad. A bunch of tough guys with guns (and sometimes ninjas with all kinds of neat stuff) killing each other. At least there were lots of pyrotechnics, fake blood and completely impossible situations. Hey, it was on a big screen with good sound. Everything is good on a big screen.   
When the last scene of the last movie played out, the four of them sat there in silence. Any one of them could have answered for the rest; they just weren't tired enough to go to bed. So it was Kyrie's turn to pick something out. Considering the horror genre was a favorite...   
"Oh no." Cloud protested loudly. "No Killer Puppets from Under the Sewers."   
"Oh come on." She insisted, the disk already in the player and spinning. "It's part three! It's the best!"   
"You'll have nightmares." The blonde insisted, far more quiet than he had been. "There must be another way to get tired."   
"Scotch." Vincent suggested, not terribly helpfully.   
"Rum." Rodger added.   
"Part four." Kyrie put her two Gil in, reaching into the movie tower by the couch for another disk. "We've got up to part seven here..."   
"And someone should stay up for a little while, anyway." Vincent continued in his less than supportive manner.   
"Fine." Cloud mumbled. "Just... warn me when the eyes start crawling out of the drain pipes."   
"Sure. I'm nothing if not a caring individual." The ever so friendly Leonhart sarcasm shone through.   


After the movie was over, Cloud wasn't the only one left staring blankly at the black and red credits. It had been so utterly stupid, so shoddy, so obviously impossible... but damn it'd been freaky. The special effects weren't so special, but that added to the appeal.   
Even on their second time through, Kyrie and Rodger sat _very_ close together. It was just one of those odd, in the moment things that would look so stupid in the morning... but not while the room was almost completely dark while one of the balcony doors swung noisily in the wind.   
Vincent wished to Hyne he had a ketchup packet. He had some pretty marvelous ideas of what to do during the next horror movie screening. "Alright." He broke the momentary silence. "Let's at least get in bed before the sun comes back up."   
"That's another movie entirely." Kyrie teased a suddenly far too relieved Cloud, having gone to turn the lights back on. He refused to answer in anything but a glare.   
"So..." Rodger gently prodded. "I guess I sleep out here."   
"I believe that was the plan." Vincent confirmed softly. "The bedroom is for the self-proclaimed 'racing champion'."   
"De-_spite_ your _cheating_." She remarked.   
"You'd use it to your advantage if you knew about it." He countered quietly.   
"Not the point." She shot back, stretching. "Alright, then. Can we, uh, have a good night moment?" she indicated the yawning mass beside her.   
"But it's getting cold outsi--" Cloud started before the other pair of red eyes shut him up with a look. "Oh, yeah."   
Waiting until they were more or less alone for the moment, balcony door shut, Rodger quietly commented, "We haven't slept in different beds in four years."   
"Because we're sinners." She tried to lighten the mood.   
She got the shadow of his smile, at least. "I hope we can both sleep."   
"Without getting cold." She countered.   
"Oh, Vincent can visit." He grinned viciously.   
Ah, the glory of absolute shock value. She started laughing uncontrollably, only partially hoping that no one but the two of them had heard that. "You lovely bastard." She joked, hugging him tightly.   
"I thought that's what you'd be calling him..." he continued, if only to fragment the loss he was feeling just then. It's not like she'd be far. Just the other room, just a few paces away. It still felt like a cold, solid distance. That didn't settle well, and he squeezed harder as the thought overtook him.   
"It'll be alright." She lied blatantly to both of them. She didn't know for sure. The next time Jenova took her mind... what then? There were a million questions she wasn't certain she wanted answers to. _Can't I have a normal life like everyone else?_   
_"You're not like everyone else."_ He mouthed against her neck, instinctually knowing that thought. It was so strong he could hear it somehow. Maybe a blessing, maybe a curse--maybe just dumb fucking luck. It was true. And he didn't mind. He just hated to see... this. Hated to _live_ this, feeling so helpless and far away.   
She forced herself to squeeze once more, then pull away. If not then, then perhaps never. "You see to it they treat you well." She joked.   
"I'll see to it." He grinned. "But you... just get some rest. Maybe we'll get some more games tomorrow and you can kick more ass."   
"I'd like that." That kiss was perhaps a little more... desperate than any of the others had been. She didn't want to let go. She didn't want to be in that room alone, to be in that bed completely, all, alone. But it was safer that way. Perhaps easier in a sense. It hurt to see the pain he tried to hide when she pulled back. "I love you. Despite anything that happens, you've got to remember that."   
"I'll be holding on." He made a fragile attempt to grin. "I love you, too. And if there's anything I can do, ever, at all..."   
"You'll know." She promised. "For now, just... be defensive."   
That did not seem like something to chuckle at. Not on the outside. But they _did_ have a pretty fucked up sense of humor. Another brief hug, and she walked to the balcony doors to let the exiles back inside. "Good night, guys."   
"Sleep well, Kyrie." Vincent answered.   
"In your warm bed." Cloud mumbled.   


She wouldn't have expected sleep to come as easily as it did. Even as she changed into sleeping clothes, she felt every single hour she'd been up. It was always great to go to bed when you were dead tired, with no predetermined time to wake. No alarms, nothing to do but sleep as long as you damn well pleased. Though she suspected Cloud probably wouldn't have allowed that, if only to get back at her.   
Pretty much as soon as her head hit the pillow, she felt lulled into the deepest parts of sleep. Pleasant, warm darkness.... and then a flitter. _A dream..._ she halfway realized for an instant, before that consciousness failed her entirely.   
The warmth and comfort of the bed had become a dark, cool room she'd never been in before. Then she felt that chill... were she conscious enough to have any control at all, she'd have shaken or screamed herself awake. She felt it coming, felt something surrounding her mind like a vice. It was like something thieved her body and shoved her brain aside--but it wasn't her body. It didn't... feel like her body at all. And then, her eyes focusing in the dream, she began to grasp the scope of this. It wasn't entirely Jenova's control. This... this was a memory. 

**_***SQUICK NOTE***_**

She watched the scene utterly helplessly--from Sephiroth's eyes. There was Squall at the beginnings of adolescence, standing defiantly in the dark corner of the room. He was dressed only in a t-shirt and a slightly ripped pair of shorts, small patches of mud and scuffed hands making it obvious that he had been training. His eyes were just as bright and stormy, deceptively cold as she remembered; but it all changed as Sephiroth approached. Young Squall seemed to wince a little as the elder man's shadow fell across him, a searing look of fear and hatred playing across his eyes, instead.   
To no avail, Kyrie tried to stop the nightmare images that were threatening to pass in front of her. She simply could not stop it from coming. She couldn't wake, she couldn't move, she could barely even think her own thoughts. She _was_ Sephiroth for this moment in time. She felt his body, could feel his muscles tensing and his lips winding into a threatening smile.   
Black gloved hands thrust out and struck Squall's shoulders, squeezing until an unmistakable look of pain finally appeared on his face. A quiet, sneering chuckle made the boy wince even more, caught between trying to escape and staying completely still so the torture would be over sooner.   
One hand released the boy while the other found it's way snugly around his neck. The free hand dipped its fingers into the front of Squall's shorts and yanked them down. Not a sound escaped the boy, but Sephiroth breathed a satisfied, sexual sigh. With another powerful yank, Squall's briefs landed right atop the shorts at his ankles, exposing his soft skin to the chill of the room and the heat of the man in front of him.   
Sephiroth didn't so much as wait for him to step out of them; he shoved the boy down onto the floor and tore the remnants of clothing completely from the small body. Squall whimpered lightly, but it did nothing to make the insane man stop. It only fed the anger as he was backhanded, an extra bit of snap coming from the leather glove.   
"If he'd just kept his mouth shut, you both would have gotten off easier." The bastard hissed, forcing the boy's legs wide apart. "All you made was a mistake. But he had to argue. Then you had to fight for him." He looked over his shoulder to where the slightly older child lay, unconscious in a pile of clothes marked with dry blood and a large red cross.   
Squall closed his eyes and waited. He seemed to know exactly what was coming. And, taking a deep breath, he seemed to believe he deserved it. He clenched his jaw, determined not to make a sound. It was a useless struggle; he screamed the moment Sephiroth thrust into him.   
Music. The agonized scream was music to him. He thrust again, hearing the young boy's voice shatter and fall into forced silence. When he thrust a third time, seating himself completely into the small body, he heard no scream at all. It could have been the volume of his own moan as he felt the blood oozing over his thighs. Or it could have been that those screams were intense enough to have made the boy lose his voice. It didn't matter. He came almost instantly as he felt the blood dripping down his legs. 

**_***END OF SQUICK NOTE***_**

  
  
  
  
  


She woke with a jarring start, for a moment still feeling warm blood running down her legs. It was an illusion, just the fading memory of a dream, but... but Hyne, how... how fucking awful...   
She turned away from the delicate light of predawn, curling up into a fetal position. There was no other warm body to rest hers against, to find comfort in. There was... nothing but cotton sheets and the clear thumping of her own heartbeat. This was sincerely a little bit of hell. 


	7. Chapter 7

"Retribution Nor Redemption" and the general overall concept of "Retribution Nor Redemption" is completely copyright Orin Drake 2002-2003, as are the characters Kyrie Leonhart and Rodger Kinneas. The characters Seifer Almasy, Squall Leonhart, Quistis Trepe, Ellone (Leonhart?), Laguna Loire and Rinoa "The Great Big Bitch" Heartily (biased? me?) are copyright Squaresoft, as are the terms SeeD, gunblade, Trabia Garden, Griever, and probably a lot of other stuff I forgot to mention. Hell, if you played the game, you know. Enough said.   
Background: Well. Here is the "anticipated" sequel to The Sins of Two Fathers. This won't be as much action as it will be psychological warfare, I think. Don't know what else to tell you. Beware bad language, sexuality and social outcasts having fun regardless of their status at the expense of others.   
  
  


Retribution Nor Redemption   
Chapter 7   
by Orin Drake 

For a short moment, she pondered venturing into the main room and making the attempt at watching television--for a couple of days in a row, so she'd be so damn tired by the end of it that she wouldn't remember any dreams at all.   
But it wasn't merely a dream. She knew that. It was a memory, and Jenova may have had everything or nothing to do with it. She suspected it was certainly partially that bitch's fault, though.   
No, if she went in to watch TV she'd just be questioned. Then they'd worry. Even more. Sleep didn't seem like the best option, however. Things were spiraling quickly. Far too fucking fast for her to hang on much longer. It was a frightening thought on its own, but even more so at this time in the morning.   
"Fucking Jenova." She whispered to herself with a sigh. "If you had any real power..." she paused, wondering where the hell she was going with that. Obviously, the bitch _did_ have power. At this point it seemed to be only over _her_, but that had proven to be effective for the time being. There was no way to end that sentence that didn't sound like a really stupid challenge. It was probably best to just... not get into it.   
Maybe she ought to go to the bathroom. Although, she didn't really have to. And it probably wasn't the best place to go anyway, right? If the mirror were fixed, she just might break it again. Just about anything seemed a better choice than just... staying where she was. The room didn't feel _safe_.   
But then, nothing felt safe. Nothing felt... right. In fact, everything felt cold again, like there was a draft. A cold draft in a suite on what was supposed to be a warm day. Come to think of it, her hands were starting to tingle like the blood flow had been mildly restricted, and her heart was beating faster than it really ought to be...   
_Shit._ The single word blurred through her mind as she tried to get out of the bed. Where she was going to go, what she was going to do, didn't matter. It was a desperate fleeing from whatever she could find to get away from. Of course, it didn't work. She'd moved too late or not enough, and the very muscles of her body seemed to give out under their own weight, collapsing her back to the bed.   
_"If I had any real power..?"_ grated cruelly through her mind. _"Another demonstration is in order."_   
Before there was any chance to respond, absolute fucking _agony_ attacked her head. It wasn't like a headache, though it did somehow resemble a migraine (she'd never had one, but she sure knew what it felt like now). No, it was a pain that was beyond the physical. It was godawful, as if the very fabric of her brain was being torn apart by a million shards of Hyne knew what; ripping, bleeding, tearing. There was suddenly no sight, no sound, but there was sure as hell a beating heart that wasn't right. She didn't know how or why, but... it was there. Something that felt almost like Materia, but so vicious, so out of place. All of her senses collapsed in on that sensation, rending thoughts at random.   
She wondered briefly--when she was able--if this was how Seifer felt when Ultimecia had been in control of him. He'd never spoken much of it... Everything was drowned out this way; even the thought, the wondering, of her father didn't come through the first few times she attempted to think it. Something seemed to be eating at her mind, scratching away through her skull.   
And then, as suddenly as it had come, it melted. It didn't stop, but it... melted--into a memory that was familiar, but not hers. It was through something else, someone else's eyes again...   
Squall. Chained up and looking right at her--but she wasn't her. This was stronger than even the dream; she felt, only for an instant, Jenova's proverbial hand shoving her over the edge.   
_"Dad!"_ she tried to scream. Nothing would happen. Nothing would obey. The look in his eyes was absolute horror under vicious hatred. Then she realized whose eyes she was gazing out of. _No, no, not again..._ Her conscious being seemed to crawl into a corner, begging this picture to stop before it even began. But there _was_ no stopping it. It rolled on, forcing her to see everything, forcing her to _live_ every moment.   
She couldn't stop it. She couldn't even look away. All of her senses--all nerves, all vision, all _feeling_--was tied to this experience. It was like... it was like she were doing it to her own father... She had to remind herself that it wasn't _her_ several times, but that didn't help matters in the least. Regardless of being aware enough to know she was not doing this, not causing this, she was still forced to experience it. Every motion, every casual thought of that madman, the very anticipation of the--   
_"No!"_ she tried shouting. When that didn't work, she chanted it in her head over and over--but that didn't help, either. She was watching, and she was feeling... oh Hyne, she felt herself/himself...   
No. Fuck no. Not like that, not in...   
But she quickly found that it was far from over. Increasingly horrified, she watched as Sephiroth butchered Squall's eye. And maybe even worse... maybe much, much worse...   
_"You belong (gasp), in a pile (pant), of your own (gasp), blood (breath hitches), and shit (hiss), Almasy (shiver)."_   
She had never known it was possible to sob insanely inside of your own head--if it _was_ her own. It was so hard to tell. So hard to tell _anything_. Darkness overcame her, and for that she could never have been more grateful. But for the memories, for those experiences--   
_"You didn't even shed a tear..."_ she heard Sephiroth's voice musing as the darkness gave way. _"Not an ounce of sorrow."_ Even the mental vice that was Jenova's calling card gave way almost tenderly, releasing her back into what she hesitated to call "reality".   


Light. The light of late morning or early afternoon--she'd been "out" for a while. She closed her eyes to it, not quite willing to see that particular cheery shining luminance right now. So sick. Hyne, she felt so horribly sick to her stomach. Everything felt tense, cringed, without any desire to be in any other state of being. No desire to _live_. What she'd seen, been forced to live through... she shivered.   
"How could you do that to my fucking _parents?_" she asked nothing in particular. How the hell could she retain any ounce of sanity after all of that? She just couldn't get the images out of her head regardless of how utterly awful they were...   
Oh fucking agony of Hyne's first blood... She put a hand across her face to block out everything her eyes could offer her. At this rate, she'd be broken down quickly. And she may not even know it. She could just... slip away from them, and they might not be able to tell. Not until it was too late; too late to save her, too late to save themselves. Who the fuck knew--possibly the _world_.   
It was scary. She was... more afraid than she thought she had ever been. She had no idea what to do. She didn't even know if she was really awake. Shit, she didn't even know if she ever had been all of her life. She prayed for the sake of her friends that she was just in an institution somewhere.   
That thought made her laugh bitterly. It wouldn't matter. Reality was a personal thing, not some grand "ultra real thing". She was far too angry for tears, but too scared to lash out. There was no need to lash out, anyway. It wasn't anyone's fault but her own. And that sucked even more.   
She felt a solid weight settle at the end of the bed. For a moment her heart beat painfully fast, wondering... But then, nothing could make it worse than it was. Sure it would keep eating away at her, but... at least maybe something would kill it. Or kill her. Eventually. She slowly pulled her hands away from her eyes and peered toward the foot of the bed.   
Vincent sat there somberly, his legs hanging off of her side so he could face her. There were long seconds of just that silent glance, taking everything in. When he did speak, it was more softly than she ever remembered. "It's getting worse, isn't it?"   
"Yeah." She admitted. It was all she could think of to say, really. But unplanned words flowed past her lips as well. "I don't think I can handle this."   
He swallowed, slowly and reflectively. Maybe she was looking for words of wisdom. But he was afraid he didn't really have any. He understood, but that offered so little comfort. He'd only gone through so much of what she had, but he could certainly imagine. He didn't want to, but he could. He slowly drew his flesh and blood hand through his hair, trying to think of _anything_ he could say to her at all. This emotion stuff was kind of bothersome, wasn't it?   
"Don't worry about it." She broke the silence. "I can't think of anything I'd say to me, either."   
Silence reacted. It was a painful quiet, uneasy in a way like no other. He wished he knew of something to say that would be of any comfort at all. Possibly something stupid or funny. Anything. A knock knock joke, even.   
"Vincent?" she asked finally, her voice exceedingly fragile.   
He didn't answer right away. Her tone was... different. Almost like she was ready to surrender right then. Cold chills ran through even his metal hand at the sound of her voice. "Yes?"   
She thought the request over for a moment, wondering just how smart it was to voice, let alone honestly and truly want and ask for. "Could we... spend some time at the house instead of here?"   
"Your house?" he asked, already knowing the answer. When she didn't respond, that was the affirmative he was looking for. Well... what a request. Easy to do, of course. Not that big of a deal. But worrisome. The girl that never surrendered was asking to go home. He prayed silently that it was not to give up and die. "I think we can do that. Today. There is something else I'm worried about, though."   
She groaned quietly. She didn't want to know. She didn't want him to speak anymore all of a sudden. For once she felt that smooth, exotic voice would bring her nothing but agony. Regardless, she was not one to be rude to him. "What?"   
"We've got to do something about Rodger. I think he has a crush on me."   
Through the pain, the aggravation, the insanity and the over-all absolute abuse and destruction of her mind and her _world_--she laughed. She covered her eyes with her hands as though she might cry, and she laughed. _Would it be a real sign of flying off the deep end to say that I loved you, Vincent?_   
He grinned softly, just glad to be of some help. "I'll get packed."   
"Thank you." She slowly recovered from the giggling fits.   
He nodded and stood, then walked out the door. There was the murmuring outside of other voices; Vincent's matter-of-fact tone, then a surprised something or other from Cloud. Rodger had said something monotone, but Vincent's response sounded hopeful. She wished she could make out the words, but they were just too quiet. She wasn't sure she'd have wanted to hear any of it, anyway. Looked like she was going home for a little while.   
She closed her eyes, thinking that request over. Why had she even wanted that? Just to have a familiar place to find comfort in? It was as good a reason as any. She liked the suite and everything, but... it wasn't exactly the comforts of home. Damn close with a big screen and all the video games she could imagine, though. It was too close to Laguna, too; she didn't want him to have to be stricken with the idea that he could see her in the hallway all of a sudden or anything. Sure it was unlikely, but she knew how he thought. He didn't need the added stress.   
At least the house could get trashed and there wouldn't be any international incidents, as well. She didn't expect anything of the sort to happen, but... just in case. Kinda sucked to have to think that way. She'd had quite a bit of freedom in that regard, letting Garden worry about everything. Sure it was far better to be _free_ of that place, but other people planning things and being in charge felt almost like a luxury now.   
_Being on "the outside" is better, though._ She reminded herself. It was almost a laughable thought to have wished for time to reverse, just a little bit. She had no idea where this was going, or what would become of her let alone any of them--   
"Hey." Rodger called softly from the doorway.   
It was a pleasant interruption from the runaway train of her thoughts. Enough of one to make her sit up and smile a little. She looked over his shoulder to see if either of the others would follow him in, but they were nowhere to be seen. _No doubt within sprinting distance..._ she bit back a sour expression at the idea. Jenova may be badly drained, but she was not dead. It may well take very little strength to just reach out and--she threw that thought down and stamped on it, forcing that smile to remain more than she'd have liked.   
He knew. There was no way he could not have known after having been with her for so long. He said nothing of it, however, knowing that there was no point to that sort of conversation. Life was too short. Possibly even shorter--and he'd really rather not have to think about that. Instead, he sat next to her and took in the grateful silence for a moment. "I'm kind of relieved that you'd rather be at the house." He admitted.   
Hyne, she was even afraid to hold his hand. Hers rested inches above his, unable to advance or retreat. He actually made the move, pulling the floating hand between his freely. It might be his suicide, but a little contact was so fucking _necessary_.   
She took a deep breath, a touch relieved. "It'd be more comfortable for all of us, I think."   
He nodded, pulling her hand--and her--just a little closer. "Vincent said it was progressing. That something would happen soon."   
She blinked, noting that his tone was more of scientific, matter-of-fact curiosity rather than fear or worry. She actually appreciated that a lot. "Yeah. I think he's right." She shivered with the crashing memories of mere moments before; living memories showed to her through the eyes of that megalomanical "god" that she was truly beginning to _hate_. It was only distaste and anger at first, but now... hatred shone through that a million times brighter.   
Rodger swallowed, watching her eyes closely. Her hand had contracted with something, some thought--he just needed to know that it wasn't Jenova's control. The first time was nerve-wracking enough. "I wish... at least that I could go through it with you."   
She shivered again, but felt an unforced smile at the edges of her lips. _No, I don't think you really do. Not if you knew what it entailed._ "And I wish I could stop it. Just... make it go away."   
He sighed quietly. The most awful feeling in the world was helplessness, he'd come to realize. He wasn't about to let either of them lose hope, however. "You'll pull through. Otherwise, it'd be such a waste of time and effort."   
"Humph. Nice to be thought of." She kissed him lightly on the cheek, glad for the perk he offered. As she pulled back, the thought crossed her mind: _Hyne, if that was our last kiss, that kinda sucked._ Surprising the hell out of him, she leaned forward and offered a much better example of affection.   
Vincent stepped in through the doorway, stopping short at the scene. Rodger looked to be both surprised and completely limp with the kiss, while Kyrie was putting all of her heart into it. He just leaned on the door frame and tried to keep in a chuckle, waiting for one of them to take a breath. At last Kyrie pulled back, leaving her victim dazed and slack-jawed. At that point, the voyeur cleared his throat. "If you two are done, shall we get going?"   
Rodger... couldn't really respond. So, his girlfriend spoke for him. "I guess we're more or less ready. Well, after I get dressed."   
"Please do. But I'll take the boy, if you don't mind. Your siren's song has done enough already, I think." Vincent grinned.   
"Damn." Kyrie sighed overdramatically.   
"Yes." Rodger said finally. "I need... to be outside."   
The "siren" gave him a wicked little expression, then indicated he go ahead with a nod. "I'll only be a minute."   
"So will I." Rodger murmured under his breath, just barely loud enough for her to hear. He walked past Vincent without eye contact, heading straight for the bathroom.   
She could _not_ help the giggles. She couldn't stop them, she couldn't silence them. Even after Vincent had closed the door with a shake of his head, even through getting a clean set of clothes on. They persisted as Rodger walked out of the bathroom with a lopsided smirk, and even off and on as they were walking the hallways to get to the train.   
"Am I missing something?" Cloud finally asked.   
"Many things." Vincent assured. He only grinned vaguely when the blonde stared at him.   


Vincent had hurried to arrange a train. He'd wound up getting them a single room, very small private car. It wasn't that his authority was lacking--it was simply that he'd arranged for the first possible train out. It wasn't like they needed anything fancy, anyway. It was a very short trip.   
Cloud stared out the window the whole time, refamiliarizing himself with the landscape. It's not as if all that much had changed since he'd been gone; in fact, all of the little towns on the outskirts looked pretty much exactly the same. That was a conscious effort on Laguna's part (regardless of some of the politicians being annoyed by that little fact). He'd always felt strongly about the little towns staying little towns. The city of Esthar was a mecca, and that was enough.   
The train trip was nice and relaxing--getting the car back was the aggravating part. Alright, sure; so it had been parked a little bit longer than what had initially paid for. It shouldn't have been that big of a deal. Kyrie paid the rest with her big fancy card with her name on it in gold letters, after all. Hell, she had three people to vouch for her... although if they'd been asked to give a reason for why she was so late picking the car up, they'd have had quite a bit of fun with it. Luckily the plastic took care of everything quite easily. It was the name on the card and the pendant around her neck--the clerk reacted with a wide-eyed apology. Sometimes it paid to be a Leonhart, alright.   
The actual drive was quite comfortable (regardless of Cloud's insistence that yes, he could drive, coming loudly from the back seat). Not too many people crowding the main roads, and absolutely no one on the rarely used offshoots that lead to the house. That was why her parents had decided that was a good location, though. It was comfortably away from everything and ultimately off a road that didn't resemble a road at all. After all that time, though, she'd learned exactly where to swerve to best avoid a damaged axle. Hey, it was her turn to drive, dammit.   
It felt to Kyrie like it'd been a million years since she'd been inside, let alone used the key. As soon as the knob was turned and the door opened, she felt an overwhelming sense of... well, home. A little comfort in that, really. The way the light hit through the partially transparent drapes, the smell of wood and metal that was specifically _that house_ regardless of how much it was cleaned or rearranged... it felt good.   
It was the first time Vincent had been in the place since it had been a mess of boxes weeks previous, and of course the first time for Cloud at all. They both stopped suddenly between the foyer and the living room, noting what adorned the wall across the way. Masamune. And the Buster Sword. Crossed one over the other (latter over former) and mounted at high eye level. Not in a gaudy, trophy way, though. There was a deep blue strip of silk that looped around, between and hung from them that Cloud instantly recognized as a rather ancient sign of respect for a weapon put to rest. Crossed over and displayed as they were... he felt a little honor and pride in that, honestly. An appropriate entrance decoration, certainly.   
Kyrie couldn't help a little proud smile, herself. It was all her doing, her idea. What the hell else would she do with two legendary swords? Put them in boxes in a closet somewhere? Maybe when she was damn good and ready (or dead), she'd offer them to a history museum to ponder over. Hell, many chunks of history had been lost along the way--it should blow some minds.   
"I'm only assuming most of the stuff in the fridge is still good." She announced, looking over a small assortment of miraculously surviving house plants. "So if anyone wants anything..."   
Cloud moved right away toward the kitchen. He may have never been in the place before, but he always knew where the food was kept. It was some sense he'd developed long ago, caused by what was referred to as "rations". He still believed, and would always believe, it was just pressed and colored sawdust. "What's this?" he called, waving a randomly selected container.   
"Probably something you'd eat." She responded jokingly before turning to Vincent. "Feel free to grab a bedroom and make yourself comfortable."   
He shook his head politely. "The two of you each ought to have a bedroom."   
A sudden explosion of coughing came from the kitchen. When it ended, Cloud called out, "The milk's bad."   
Rodger sighed and rolled his eyes with good humor, taking momentary leave of the conversation to join the blonde's excursion into the refrigerator. _Someone_ had to be the "responsible one".   
Kyrie cast her eyes downward for a moment, feeling just the slightest bit of agitation well up again as she continued the conversation with Vincent. "I kind of assumed it might be best if I was more or less a floor away from everyone."   
Maybe she had a point there. But honestly, they may or may not be able to "hear it coming", as it were. "Well, we'll work something out."   
Something in the kitchen was whispered. Then suddenly Cloud peeked his head out, brimming with excitement. "You can _cook_?"   
Kyrie's eyes narrowed at her grinning boyfriend, standing off to the side and waving with only his fingertips. "You bastard."   
Vincent shook his head at his old companion. "How about we just get something delivered so we can all relax?"   
"There aren't that many places that will come all the way out here." Kyrie admitted. There was the downside to "the boonies".   
"I'll pay." The red-eyed man offered.   
"Well, in that case..."   


In a location where the choices include pizza, pizza, pizza and sandwiches, you may think that the choice is obvious. But there was just something about pizza--its essence, its simplicity. And it was just good. Kyrie made no excuses to hide the fact she'd pick pizza over the finest foods in the world. Lucky for Vincent's account, anyway. The invention of those heat trapping devices for transport sure helped for a long trip, too. The delivery boy had the shit scared out of him by a man with a claw and red eyes, but he got a big tip and everyone else got a little laugh out of it.   
"No wonder no one likes us." Kyrie commented, getting the plates.   
"It's just that no one likes _you_." Vincent quipped. "We're disliked by association."   


While home offered great comfort and nice amenities, it was regretful that they did not have a big screen television, or a state of the art video game system. Just hadn't been at the top of things to do before moving in, really. They amused themselves through pizza with stupid sitcoms, and afterward with slightly older racing games and miraculously outdated shooters.   
"What the hell was that?" Cloud asked at one point.   
"A fireball." Kyrie answered, watching. _Pits of Agrian_ was one of her very first video games. It introduced her to the concept of going through level after level, castle after castle, and being told that she'd have to go yet further to save whoever the hell it was she was supposed to be saving. All she knew was that there was a lot of jumping and shooting fireballs involved.   
Cloud shook his head. "It didn't _sound_ like a fireball." Everyone else laughed while Cloud still insisted that it was the truth.   
After everyone had taken several turns and gotten sick of hearing that their princess was in another castle, they let bad sitcoms do the entertaining for them. Well, save for the shouting at the screen, which never failed to have some entertainment value.   
Kyrie only realized after a particularly unflattering semi-nude shower scene focusing on a very unattractive (but "realistic" and "gritty") man that she hadn't taken a shower that morning. She wasn't usually one to forget something like that. But then, they had just sort of rushed out of the place. It'd be nice to take a shower at home, just for the sake of doing so. Yeah, she was a bit of a clean freak. But she liked it that way. It was only halfway through the evening, and the thought of waiting until morning was not so appealing all of a sudden. "Would anyone object to me taking my leave and showering about now?"   
"Please do." Rodger joked, seeing his opportunity.   
Sitting right next to him, it was an easy reach to find the spot just under the back of his knee that was insanely sensitive to tickling. He squirmed under her expert touch until he cried out, "Okay! Alright! Stop!"   
Instantly, she did so, behaving as if she'd never done it in the first place. Indeed she looked quite pleased with herself. "Anyone else have anything to say?"   
Cloud looked mildly horrified with that display, actually. Vincent tried to suppress the threatening grin, shaking his head solemnly.   


How she wished she was able to enjoy the thought of being upstairs naked when Rodger and Vincent were downstairs... Unfortunately there was a little matter of growing increasingly insane to worry about. And then the picture of Cloud looking ungodly disgusted--making her laugh more than anything. She made sure the water was turned up _hot_, then waited.   
No doubt she was being discussed, below. That didn't really bother her so much. She needed as much space from them as they did from her, she imagined. Not that she wanted to block them out or anything, but in this point in time the small moments of space and silence were treasured just as much as all of them being together. It was all really kind of odd being in the house again. With everyone, anyway. She wondered for a moment how differently things might be handled if her parents were still alive.   
_No point in that._ She reminded herself, testing the temperature. _Then this wouldn't be happening in the first place. Maybe._   
Climbing inside and sliding the door shut behind her, she simply tried to relax in the stream of water. It was so hot that it very nearly hurt--but that was kind of the idea. Just to knock her back to the "here and now". She readjusted the flow to be a little more comfortable, then wet her hair down. Showers always did feel good. The ritual of shedding and bathing, perhaps. It just felt... good. Open. Nice.   
"All the comforts of home." She heard as clearly as though it were spoken right next to her--but she knew that voice too well. _Sephiroth._   
With that knowledge came the melting of time and space--a mini time compression of the mind. Everything was _there_, and then everything just _wasn't_. Darkness fell like the very sun had died, and she felt her body fall away like a dead shell. _Dammit._   
"You almost seem... disappointed." The man's voice continued in the darkness.   
"You could say that." She dared to raise a hand in front of her face, just to see what would happen. Amazingly, it was there. She could see it and herself, as if everything but her body had disappeared. Another mind fuck, obviously--but a damn convincing one.   
Looking back up, Sephiroth's body was suddenly in front of her, just as she remembered it. The pale flesh, silver hair, black leather outfit; and those goddamn vicious green cat eyes. His lips turned into a knowing grin, looking her up and down hungrily. "You're little dare this morning has left Mother a bit drained. So she sent me to keep you in line. And I am glad she did."   
"Fantastic." She spat flatly.   
"You don't seem happy to see me." He took a step closer, the universe seeming to constrict along with his movement.   
It made Kyrie feel trapped and claustrophobic. Much worse than a vast field of black nothingness was a tiny enclosure of it. Regardless, she kept her thoughts clear. If he was here to talk, she'd try to get some fucking sense made out of this. At least it may help her or Vincent to figure out exactly what was going on. "Why would you bother 'visiting' at all?"   
He tried to look offended for a short moment in time. "Well, we wouldn't want anyone to get hurt now, would we?"   
"Like you give a fuck who gets hurt." Of all the ludicrous gaul...   
"Such language!" he laughed. "Jenova blood, Sorceress blood, and your stubborn willpower. It makes for a pretty interesting combination." He leered again, watching every little reaction.   
She didn't even notice the look, really. "Sorceress blood has no bearing on anything." She corrected, feeling somewhat exhausted. It wouldn't matter what she did or what she said--he'd still be a prick. And she'd just have to _deal_ with it for the time being.   
"Not in this time and place." He agreed, his mood shifting to a calm seriousness. "But Jenova can use it. The Materia know how to use it. And it connects _us_."   
"How could it possibly..?" and then it hit her, hard and painfully.   
He spoke the thought for her. "We _exchanged_ blood, remember? We are linked. Through myself, Jenova can get to you."   
She remembered how pissed she'd been when he'd hit her with that belt initially, having her imprisoned in that Inn four years ago. It was nothing compared to how pissed she was right then and there, however. She couldn't have known the implications of biting him, let alone... It was just damn aggravating. She wished she'd have at least known enough to tear off a finger or something. "Is that why I see your memories?"   
His insane grin returned, brighter than ever. "You would see them, regardless. You _experience_ them because of our link."   
She closed her eyes, unable to contain that shiver. Oh she was so utterly exasperated with herself, let alone this bastard. "I can't stand to see any of your atrocities again."   
She was suddenly knee-deep in his infamous flaming glare. That look alone had brought down hundreds of soldiers in its time. His voice grew even more harsh, even lower than she ever remembered it being. "You only have to experience sections from time to time. I have to _live_ it all. I have to live _everything_, over and over again." Point made, his voice shifted back to its usually overconfident self. "But not for much longer."   
Cold. That damned raging cold took her body like Shiva's ice. So cold it burned--so cold she could feel the sweat begin to bead at the back of her neck even in this unreal place. "What do you mean?"   
"Jenova is... 'transferring'." His sudden and complete smile was devastating. "She'd rather use you than me. So I think I may be freed from these memories soon."   
If she had been standing under her own power all this time, she realized that she could no longer. It was like a train had crashed into her, leaving her alive and aware of every passing second. _"Jenova is transferring."_ A truly terrifying thought. Just what it meant, what it entailed--she wasn't sure she wanted to know. Maybe if she were lucky her mind would shatter long before that. She'd be just as happy-go-lucky insane as the man before her.   
His voice softened suddenly, seeing the terror in her reaction. "Don't take this the wrong way, of course, but... better you than myself."   
_Asshole._ She understood. She certainly didn't say so, but she understood. And, strangely, she didn't really blame him for thinking that way. He'd spent a long, long time living under Jenova--but that sure as fucking hell didn't justify any of _this_. Anger replaced fear, but it did nothing to steady her.   
Instantly, in a flash beyond what her eyes could see, she was in the shower again, leaning safely against the tile under the running water. It was so tempting to sob until she made herself sick--the shower water would wash the tears away. She could pretend afterward like it never happened.   
No. She couldn't do that. That'd almost be like admitting defeat. She just didn't do that. She gladly retained Seifer's moronic cockiness and Squall's insane but closely kept belief that everything would work out in the end, thank you. Turning the water off, she carefully made sure her legs were steady before grasping for the towel. This time she didn't so much as glance near the mirror. It probably wouldn't happen again, especially not after what had just occurred, but... the mere thought of gazing back from/into green eyes was far too unpleasant. She wouldn't chance it. As much as she was beginning to think she might prefer to go off the deep end before this shit got "really" serious, she'd more like to have retained her sanity for as long as possible.   
A knock interrupted. Instead of shouting, she merely opened the door. Hey, she was wrapped in a towel. No big deal.   
And of all the luck--Vincent actually looked _surprised_ for once. Really and truly. She grinned at that reaction, glad to be the one to have stricken it from him. "Yes?"   
He tried so very hard to compose himself in a matter of a fraction of a second. It was already too late to pretend not to have been caught by surprise, but it wasn't too late to pretend that it simply hadn't happened at all. "I was just checking on you." He remarked naturally.   
Could she blame a towel slip on being insane, she wondered... Nah. There was freak and there was _freak_. She didn't want to _freak_ him out; he was a friend and she'd have liked it to remain that way. She smiled regardless, knowing that just for one split second in time she had caught him utterly off guard. And, dammit, if she didn't have so much to worry about... "Oh, I'm okay." The smile fell as quickly as it had appeared as she continued. "But... I think I do have more to tell."   
He swallowed, completely forgetting what had transpired seconds earlier. "More information?"   
"Yeah." She breathed painfully. "It's gotten worse... but I think that can wait until I get dressed."   
It wasn't even meant as a joke this time. He nodded, saying nothing more before walking back down the stairs.   
She sighed, darting across the hall to get some clothes. Placing yet more weight on her friends... it didn't seem right. But then, neither did keeping this from them. If they could help, if there was _anything_ that could be done, she wanted it to have a possibility of working.   


When she walked down the stairs, she found they'd already converged at the kitchen table. It was as good a place as any. And it would allow them all to face one another. It just sort of seemed important.   
Kyrie sat in her apparently appointed seat, watching the not so eager looks of anticipation. She started out very bluntly, just getting to the point. "Sephiroth said that Jenova was 'transferring'." She paused to let the mild shiver pass so it wouldn't weaken her voice. "He said... she'd prefer me over him."   
Terrified looks were exchanged over the table. The implications...   
Vincent dared the first obvious question. "What would happen to Sephiroth?"   
Kyrie shook her head, finding eye contact impossible at the moment. "He said he might be freed from his memories. But that was all."   
"What do we do?" Rodger asked quietly. It was directed toward everyone, Hyne included.   
The old comrades retained eye contact for a long time. At last Cloud broke it off, looking a little defeated. Vincent answered as best he could. "There's really nothing _we_ can do."   
_It's all on my head now._ Kyrie held back, almost tasting the blood from her bitten lip. She stopped just in time to prevent the skin breaking, but it made no difference. She could still taste the blood, and it brought on yet more out of control trains of thought. She sighed deeply, raggedly, letting nothing out but breath. It hurt. It was tense. It felt... ugh, it felt beyond awful. "So you'd all rather just... wait and watch, or what?"   
Cloud cringed a little at the tone of her voice. The admission felt like a surrender. "I don't really think we have any other options right now."   
Resting on the table, she curled her hand up, the finger nails actually leaving trails in the wood. It was fucking frustrating. "This would be easier if I knew I were dying." She murmured.   
Vincent felt his stomach curl into the farthest reaches of his body. Her words struck the breath from him, but the idea was by far worse. "Quite frankly..." he trailed off quietly, forcing her to meet his eyes for just a second.   
"Yeah, I know." She sighed, understanding his train of thought. If something did happen, if something big took place... they'd have to kill her. They'd have no choice. It was really a damn good thing they were in the house rather than the Presidential Estate.   
Only then did Cloud and Rodger get the picture, and they both stared at Vincent in shock. Rodger found his voice somehow, though it was rough and flat. "You can't be serious."   
Kyrie gritted her teeth, trying to remain calm. Too much, it was all just too fucking much. "No other choice."   
There was a _lot_ that Rodger wanted to respond to that with. Most of it would probably have turned out to be a collection of expletives that would make Quistis blush--but more importantly, it was the personally important things that sprang to mind. The thought that he could lose her, lose that very thing that had completely turned his life around, that meant more to him than anything else ever possibly could... and from one of their own hands... It made him feel sick. He _knew_ that if it got to that point, that she wouldn't be _her_ anymore, but... that didn't make anything feel any better. He kept his mouth shut and his jaw clenched, trying to get control of himself. An outburst of any kind sure as hell wouldn't help matters.   
Cloud took a very deep breath, the picture of having to carry out this ordeal... But he knew Jenova didn't fuck around. If this happened, if all of this actually came to be as it seemed to be headed... He shook his head sadly. He'd killed Sephiroth once. A former... well, "friend" wasn't quite the word. But this, all of this, every single part of this was agonizing. Too familiar in one way, and not enough in another..   
The words, _"It's supposed to be _over_."_ hitched in Kyrie's own throat before she could speak them. Of course it was--it was all supposed to be over by now. But they all knew that. "Why'd I have to bite that asshole."   
Not a question. Vincent bit down just slightly on his tongue, as if reminding himself his words to her would matter. "It's a good defense. Very unexpected." 


	8. Chapter 8

"Retribution Nor Redemption" and the general overall concept of "Retribution Nor Redemption" is completely copyright Orin Drake 2002-2003, as are the characters Kyrie Leonhart and Rodger Kinneas. The characters Seifer Almasy, Squall Leonhart, Quistis Trepe, Ellone (Leonhart?), Laguna Loire and Rinoa "The Great Big Bitch" Heartily (biased? me?) are copyright Squaresoft, as are the terms SeeD, gunblade, Trabia Garden, Griever, and probably a lot of other stuff I forgot to mention. Hell, if you played the game, you know. Enough said.   
Background: Well. Here is the "anticipated" sequel to The Sins of Two Fathers. This won't be as much action as it will be psychological warfare, I think. Don't know what else to tell you. Beware bad language, sexuality and social outcasts having fun regardless of their status at the expense of others.   
  
  


Retribution Nor Redemption   
Chapter 8   
by Orin Drake 

She sighed roughly and more or less let the upper half of her body collapse onto the tabletop. Far from surrender--it was the fires of helpless, hopeless rage building in her chest. This whole thing was really pissing her off. She appreciated Vincent's effort, really. But... it fell short. Everything did, then and there. "Soon" was the only time reference Sephiroth had given her. That... was unsettling. It simply wasn't enough.   
All of those disturbing "what if" questions had begun. Slowly at first, almost silent; but they were there, just the same. _This_ would certainly drive her crazy. She needed a freaking distraction. "Parcheesi, anyone?"   
Silent, utter surprise. It was Cloud's big mouth that luckily (this time) kept things going. "What the hell is Parcheesi?"   
"I don't know." She admitted. "But there's a board in the closet that's been there for at least ten years."   
"With instructions?" the blonde looked genuinely interested.   
"Nope." She answered flatly. "But maybe we can take turns hitting one another with the pieces."   
"I like that idea." Vincent tried his damnedest to advance the conversation. The new information was just... mind blowing. He didn't really know what to think. He hadn't had time enough yet.   


Parcheesi was a bust. Long enough of a distraction to be useful of course, but without the instructions it was just a board and a bunch of weird pieces. Granted that was fine, but their group tended to... make up rules as they went along. There were a great many cries of unfairness from all sides.   
Seeking to add a "new dimension" to their made-up game, Kyrie found some fake money from another board game and they began betting. That only lasted until the pieces started flying off the table, pelting one another instead of paying up.   
Vincent had finally ended the violence by sweeping the entire board and all off of the table, scattering everything to the floor. Silence followed for a moment as everyone stared at one another. At last the raven haired man suggested, with the devious hint of a grin just edging his features, "How about cards, then?"   
Kyrie and Rodger cast one another such a quick, sideways glance that the other two weren't sure it had really happened. Vincent got an instant bad feeling about his suggestion. He inspected each and every card from the deck he was handed, noting an all too natural expression on the faces of the house residents as he did so.   
Growing increasingly sorry he'd made the suggestion with each passing hand, he found himself losing quite a bit of fake Gil, regardless of being able to pick it off the floor every time he ran out. Cloud kept grinning at him, just glad someone else was getting screwed here. Rodger was pretty good, but a little messy. He hadn't had the practice Kyrie had--Seifer was notorious for being quite the card shark. He could stack a deck from across a room, according to Quistis. Maybe his daughter wasn't that good, but she'd learned a thing or two, even frustrating her own father from time to time.   
But Vincent was no slouch when it came to cards. He'd been severely out of practice for a damn long time, but he was beginning to get the feel of things after the first dozen hands. He could see it now, the way her wrist flexed and the muscles below her thumb twitched when she placed a card or made another move. He countered as best he could without having access to a similar deck. The counting was the easiest part of the trick, really.   
And still Cloud couldn't be happier. He wasn't exactly winning, but he sure as hell wasn't losing, either. It was quite enjoyable to watch this little war.   
When at long last things were getting just a little out of hand, almost all money being exchanged back and forth at every hand, Kyrie finally ended it with five aces and a wink. Well, that had been fun for a while.   
"You cheated." Vincent accused, pretending as though he hadn't known all along.   
"Just evening the score." She responded brightly.   


There was just... a feeling. A heavy, harmful feeling. You don't know this feeling until you're faced with not waking up in the morning. Or at least, not as yourself. The world _would_ some day end... but the fact that it could very well be tomorrow... that was not a fun thing to face. At all.   
Even death, even as frightening as that was in some respects, would have been far easier to handle. They knew, they all knew, that this would not be death in the typical sense. Sephiroth had told them that just by existing. There was a finality to death--a finality that this, whatever this was, did not have.   
Would that be how it would turn out, like Sephiroth? Would she be herself but shattered, trapped inside of something godawful? It wasn't... a pleasant thing to think about. It made her want to curl into a fetal position and rock back and forth until the end of time.   
By some miracle, she was able to avoid doing that by staring past the TV rather than at it. There was nothing that could entertain her enough to get her mind away from those issues. Not even police chase videos.   
That cold... damn that cold, suddenly invading her. She quietly wrapped her arms around herself, pulling her legs to her chest. Her body was begging for sleep, but her mind didn't want to obey. It wanted nothing to do with unconsciousness--that only brought horrible things of late. And that, that was absolutely vicious. Sleep used to be a thing to look forward to, curling up with Rodger in a warm bed and letting down all of her defenses to that restful, peaceful slumber. Not anymore.   
There was sore tension in her legs, though. Her knees had begun to ache particularly, causing her to shift her position a number of times. Her eyelids had begun to feel heavy, her eyes eventually unable to focus on the anchor people on the late news. She knew inwardly just how close she was coming to collapse already. The lack of proper, uninterrupted sleep was finally taking its toll. Now of all times... she let out a quiet sigh.   
Her friends around her were suffering similar fates, and she knew it. Their worry had kept them up, and a constant state of stress did nothing to improve conditions. She caught Cloud nearly nodding off, his whole body jerking back into a semi-conscious state when he'd nearly fallen off the sofa.   
She allowed a yawn and tried to force solace upon her feeble mind. There was no guarantee that tonight would be "the night". Who said it'd be night _or_ during sleep, anyway? Those were just dreams and visions, nothing more. Sleep would not be a mistake; it was a little necessary for staying alive, after all. Body and mind resting and all that. She got the bitter impression that "passing on" during sleep would be far too simple, anyway. Jenova didn't seem to work like that, and Sephiroth sure as hell didn't.   
It was clear that no one else was going to say anything, though. They didn't dare. They were just as far into the hopes of denying this whole thing as she was, regardless of not wanting to admit to it . She took a breath to announce her intentions to go to bed--and felt Rodger squeeze her hand. She swallowed that breath, and her thoughts, for just a moment. _Just wait._ He seemed to say, holding into her hand for dear life. _Just for a minute. Let me get ready for this._   
She felt nauseous. Cold and uncertain and sick to her stomach. What a lovely way to be going to bed. No assurances. Of anything. No rhyme or reason to any of this shit... it was going to bring on a headache at any minute.   
And then she felt another squeeze on her hand. Soft, careful. He was as ready as he'd ever be, and they both knew it. Kyrie took all the strength she could muster from that. "Well, guys..." she began, but could not continue.   
"Good." Vincent picked up where she dropped off automatically. "I can't stand one more minute of these flirting morons. They're supposed to be presenting world events to the public."   
Well. That sincerely helped a little. Though now that she was shoved into the forefront, she wasn't sure what the hell to do with herself. What do you say in a situation like that? What the hell do you even pretend to act like? She'd gladly have slept on the floor down there with the others if it weren't for the fact that she could quite honestly kill them in the middle of the night--not a nice thought to have in the first place. So now what? Say "good-bye" instead of "good night" and head on up the stairs?   
"We'll walk you up." Answering garnet eyes had caught the uncertainty in her own. Hell, leave it to the hard as steel former Turk to take the initiative for something like this, huh?   
On some level, that did make things easier. But it still felt to Kyrie as though she were leading her own funeral procession up those stairs. What a horrific thought; she reminded herself that there was still nothing final, nothing assured. She stopped in front of the bedroom door, taking a deep breath before turning around. No breaking, no feeling sorry for herself. That was ridiculous. She ought to at least appear "strong". Seeing the raw things carried out in the eyes of the others, though... she tried quite hard to knock it out of them for just a minute. "Let's just get this thing going, shall we?"   
Cloud tried to smile. He really, really did try. But he was certain he couldn't take it much longer. "Yeah. Uh... sleep well, Kyrie." He raised his hand to wave--but sort of wound up with his arms around her, instead.   
It took a moment for the shock to waver to the point for her to actually hug back. She simply hadn't expected this outpouring of emotion. It was all the strength she could muster to keep her voice from breaking. "You too, Cloud."   
"Yeah..." he whispered, unwillingly releasing. This time he waved... and somewhat forced himself to walk down the stairs, disappearing deep into the kitchen.   
_Eat all you want._ She wished she was able to call after him. But... she wasn't. She closed her eyes for a second and took a deep breath. It was like reloading Eleison before shooting--you just had to get the bullets in for another round, no matter how fast the battle was moving around you. And damn did she need to reload.   
Vincent felt... awkward. He looked awkward, and he felt awkward, and he knew that anything he did or said would be totally and almost inexcusably awkward. This... could be good-bye. He looked down for a moment, unsure of how to handle something like this. His throat felt almost too tight to let him speak, truth be told. That was new and old at the same time, somehow... but it wasn't exactly the time to reminisce. When Kyrie was good and ready to look his direction, he just sort of worked off of those instincts that had always been so right before. "Goodnight, Kyrie."   
That was... nice. There were people in the world that would have called that cheap--but she couldn't have felt any better about it, really. Short, sweet, to the point. Assassin's bullet, right through the head. "Night, Vinnie." She tried with a great deal of desperate effort to grin. It came out alright. Empty, maybe, but alright.   
He nodded and turned, walking down the stairs himself. He knew he couldn't go all the way down and offer them complete privacy--and with that he knew he wouldn't be able to speak again for a little while. If "soon" was so close... he couldn't leave Rodger alone with her. It was understood by all parties, but no less awful a thing to know.   
And so the couple looked at one another. It was completely wordless. There was no need. Silence was the only language that could possibly have expressed... anything. They just embraced, tightly and close as though they were trying to climb through one another; in a sense, it was true. Impossible, but true nonetheless. When they parted, Kyrie moved to take off Griever--but Rodger put his hand over the heavy pendant. He wouldn't accept it. No damn way would he accept it. Not while there was still a chance and she was still living and breathing, goddammit. It was understood. With that came the last heavy set of footsteps down the stairs. Moments later, the bedroom door was heard to close. There was no sound at all coming from downstairs.   


_I should cry._ She thought to herself in the dark room, staring at the ceiling. _That's what anyone else would do now. They would cry... and maybe pray. Maybe beg._ She sighed, feeling the impending tightness in her throat. In reality, she still couldn't cry. She couldn't let it reach that point. Maybe it would be "healthier" that way, but... she wasn't one to listen to shrinks.   
A chair slamming into a wall in the kitchen. She recognized the sound, surprisingly enough. Her parents never really had fights, but... there were certain aggravations. Ones that she damn well understood to a point now, she was starting to think. Who it had been who killed the poor, unassuming chair was unclear. The door was closed, so any words exchanged were done so too low for her to hear. Little matter it made; they could always buy more chairs. Raze the house for all she cared. It was alright, they had every right to have rage. Rage like hers, even. At least someone seemed to be letting it all out. Good thing there wasn't a liquor cabinet.   
Though, come to think of it, liquor might have come in damn handy for the situation. Or at least for the night, to make her sleep all the way through it. Of course, there were all of those less than attractive downsides.   
It didn't really matter. She turned onto her side, reluctant even to close her eyes. They didn't even know if "soon" meant now. "Soon" can mean months or years. Granted she had the distinct impression that such was not the case, but... a little false hope and blind faith was alright in the dark. In the dark with a madman.   
She had no idea biting that son of a bitch (literally and figuratively) would have so much disaster for her. How could she have had any indication? She'd known nothing of him, and had every damn reason to believe she had been fighting for her life. She'd learned to be instinct driven, and instinct told her to sink her teeth into the bastard.   
Heh, that was funny. That's not all instinct had told her, though she was often said to be sexually attracted to dirt. Funny how damn quick he'd gotten on her bad side, wasn't it?   
And then, for some reason, her thoughts moved to the graves. She really kind of hated to visit Seifer's and Squall's "places of rest". They seemed... too restless to be called that. Not "restless", really; the word "rest" almost seems to have been a forgetting term. Something thrown at the dead to justify the living moving on. But she would never forget her parents. Moving on, living after, was... why people had children in the first place. Living after but not forgetting was the ultimate honoring of the dead. She'd no more apologize for that than anything she'd ever done.   
_Except bite that bastard._ Not that she'd apologize. But she was actually starting to feel pretty sorry about it.   
_I want my world back, damn you._ Just words. Unspoken, but meant. Her life was interrupted. And she damn well didn't like it. Just when freedom struck and things were looking up... but that's what happened to people, wasn't it? Maybe not this sort of shit in particular, but...   
She cut off her conscious thought altogether. It got her nowhere. It just hurt in an endless cycle of ups and downs. She didn't want to think about herself, and she didn't want to think about the pain her friends were going through. She just didn't want to think. If this whole fucking mess had caused any good, it was that with all of the stress and exhaustion, it was easy to drown in sleep when you finally just shut the thoughts down.   


There was peace, for a while. There was dark, calm sleep, swallowing her up. No deep R.E.M. sleep, but that part didn't matter. Just being unconscious for the night... it was all she asked for.   
Then it happened. Some internal switch was tripped, some cue acknowledged. Jenova's cold, deadly hands were around her mind again, squeezing. Another memory--but much more dream-like this time. Through Sephiroth's eyes she saw this... grotesque statue. It was a woman's face, made of electronic parts and metal. Bleeding, somehow. Bleeding and sparking... he/she was pulling, desperately trying to find out what was behind it with unreal calm...   
There was a great gap in the memory. How this became knowledge, she wasn't able to ask. She just knew that the thing Sephiroth had uncovered was behind that mask, advancing. Advancing on the fear and the hunger, the insanity lust that was already settled there--   
She felt Jenova's consciousness crashing into his/her mind, tearing it apart from the inside out. The pain was so far beyond physical that she would later believe--when she was able to think again--nothing fully human could ever have survived.   
Sephiroth screamed. She heard it, she felt it; the scream was like nothing she'd ever heard before. It wasn't entirely vocal, although why or how that was could have been one of a million reasons beyond her understanding. His/her body thrashed violently in the physical grasp of tentacles and other disgusting things--writhing with things beyond their realm of existence. Warmth and pain and screaming--   
And suddenly Sephiroth was no longer _there_. It was just her, just Kyrie Almasy Leonhart, twisting and screaming in the grasp of revolting things she'd never cared to have known about. Even above the sounds of ripping, tearing, screaming--outweighing the pain and the mental destruction--was the sound of Jenova's laughter. It was _everywhere_, ringing in her ears and raging through the blood that spilled and returned. The word "rape" held absolutely nothing of what was happening to her. Part of her held hope that maybe if she tried to call out, someone would hear her. Maybe. Just maybe.   
Try as she might, she couldn't move any longer of her own accord. Too much pain, too much violence and mental agony to even remember who she was anymore. She wasn't even sure if she _was_, at all. All senses had ceased. All being... had stopped.   


She didn't bother to sit up when she woke this time; just put a hand over her face and let go the river of tears that had been threatening her all this while. It was silent, completely quiet; but it was painful, draining and wet. She was certain as the storm hit that she would not survive another of these dreams. It was a wonder she woke up at all.   
The spill of emotion may have taken minutes or hours--she wasn't sure, and she didn't care. No one had bothered her, no one had interrupted. That's all that mattered, all that counted.   
_This is it, _she was able to think at last, fighting the silence. The tears were much easier to wipe away than the claustrophobia seeming to edge in around her. Invisible walls clasping, imprisoning... but the thought was clear and complete. _This is the last time I'll wake up as myself. Probably the last time _I'll_ wake up at all._   
_ "You aren't entirely yourself right now."_ A familiar voice chimed emotionlessly in her head.   
"_Sephiroth."_ She growled mentally. If she had the strength or will to move, she certainly may have gone around smashing things. "_Now you're _awake_ with me, too? I might as well blow my own fucking brains out."_   
_ "Now, now." _He chided. "_That's not at all nice."_   
_ "You'd have done it yourself if you could have."_   
_ "Yes. But that's not quite the point, dear."_   
She sighed in aggravation. _"'Dear.' Yeah, that's funny."_ She started feeling those tears threatening again--hotter, this time. Angrier.   
_"Sssshhh..."_ his mockingly gentle voice cooed almost tenderly in her head. _"You have a little time left before you're completely gone."_   
_ "Gee thanks."_ She hissed, composing herself. Pure hatred--she could run on that, alright. Like a battery. Like a fucking mission in itself. Sitting up, she listened closely for any sound or motion. Nothing. Not at all. Maybe she could get a shower, then. She'd suddenly had the overwhelming urge to bathe repeatedly.   
_"Oh it's not so bad."_ The voice in her head sounded amused. _"Certainly not if you undress slowly, in front of the mirror..."_   
_ "Shut up."_ This was so much worse than what she'd anticipated actually happening to her.   


The long night of mostly silence was interrupted by the sound of a door opening upstairs. Everyone jumped a little--they hadn't really expected any movement that early in the morning. Footsteps and the settling of wood, crossing from the bedroom to the bathroom. That door closed slowly, locking.   
There was a dangerous flutter of hope in Rodger's heart--in everyone's, really. Maybe it meant a little while longer, just a little more time. Was that really so much to ask for?   
Waiting. Silent, steady waiting. Not a word uttered, and no eye contact. Just tense listening, waiting for any sounds above their heads. Twenty minutes of waiting, of breathing, of counting seconds and heartbeats--then the water was shut off. So much to hope for. Too much. But they couldn't help but think of it, want it.   
No prodding was necessary. Rodger immediately stood and carefully climbed the stairs. He had to know for sure, no matter the cost. No matter the outcome.   


"K-Kyrie?" she heard outside, tentatively.   
She closed her eyes at the pleading in Rodger's voice, the absolute hope. Sephiroth whispered, _"It seems your entourage is waiting."_   
_ "Fuck off."_ She answered stingingly. With a deep breath, she turned and unlocked the door. _Not too fast, not too slow..._ she carefully turned the knob and merely pulled at it with her fingertips, letting the door swing in slowly on its own.   
Rodger took a long, careful look at her. She was Kyrie, alright, looking very much the worse for wear. Tired, cold, aggravated, clenching at the towel around her with white knuckles.   
Hyne, the look in his eyes... she could have broken down right there. Instead, she put all energy, all thought, all effort into something resembling a grin. He wanted to believe it, he'd make it real--but she'd make the effort. She couldn't let this through, she couldn't put more weight on their shoulders. They'd break. She couldn't let them break. "I think I've got another day."   
_How horrible._ She thought immediately after. This was false hope, and she knew it. Even then... even one more day... But it might give them a little rest. A little hope.   
There was a relief in his eyes, but his chest remained tight. Maybe he knew better. Maybe... but it didn't exactly matter right then. A little hope was enough. He kissed her gently on the cheek and let a small, satisfied breath relax him. "We'll be downstairs."   
"No doubt." She grinned again, watching him go.   
_ "Why didn't you tell him I was in your head?" _the bastard almost sounded offended.   
She snorted quietly. "_What, you want me to introduce you?"_   
_ "Keeping me a secret won't do either of us any good."_   
_ "It might do them some good."_ She gazed longingly down at Rodger over the banister, having just turned to enter the kitchen with the others. Turning her eyes away, she walked the rest of the length to her bedroom. _"Behave, damn you."_   
Her request was answered with a smirking chuckle. _"Just how long do you think you can hide me?"_   
_ "Maybe as long as it takes."_ She sighed, rummaging through the closet.   
_"Go for the black ensemble."_ He suggested helpfully.   
She made a disgusted sound in her throat--but decided to take his advice. Hey, it looked nice. Especially with faded jeans. Simple, long sleeve, button-up, low v-neck, shaped for a slightly feminine look. Nice funeral outfit. It was part of her normal rotation, anyway. _"How much time do I really have?"_   
_ "Until you let go."_ He answered quietly.   
That didn't really do anything to help her nerves. _"Could you be more vague?"_   
_ "It's your choice."_ He responded without much conviction. _"When you let go, that will be the end."_   
_ "Then what if I don't let go?"_   
Her question was met with indignant laughter. _"Sooner or later, you will be forced to. You can't be on your guard forever."_   
She had absolutely no desire to continue that conversation. With a shake of her still damp hair, she tried to compose herself enough to go downstairs. Just how long could she keep this up for, she wondered. A while. Long enough to give them all a little bit of hope, perhaps. Part of her would feel awful doing that, though. As long as she could. She'd stay "among them" for as long as she could. _"Sit back and enjoy the ride."_ She invited hatefully.   


Every step to the bottom seemed to be a milestone--a marker, perhaps, of what was. She was glad that the others were separated from her with the kitchen wall as she left the last stair behind. Had anyone watched her careful descent, they may have known instantly. She turned, taking a slow look around. Home. It was just... home.   
_"That's _my_ sword."_ Sephiroth commented smugly, seeing Masamune.   
_"Yes it is."_ She shot back. _"And it's mine now."_   
_ "At least mine is much longer than the reject's."_ He teased.   
She tried not to be amused at that. How rude, really. _"You just shut up for a while, alright?"_   
_ "Do you not enjoy my company?"_ he could sound almost sincere when he really tried.   
_"Yeah, that's right."_ She hissed._ "I bet everyone wants a psycho who absolutely hates them to the core of their being, living inside their head."_   
_ "I do not _hate_ you, my dear."_ He answered too honestly to set her at ease._ "I would simply rather if I could control you. A strong will is not as attractive as everyone would like to think."_   
_ "You talk as if I give a fuck."_ She spat.   
Their conversation was interrupted with a loud clanging inside the kitchen. _A chair and now some plates and silverware. Might as well join this party._ She could use a little senseless destruction, herself.   
Across the room, turning the corner and walking through the kitchen door, she found herself feeling a little light-headed. It was... quite a scene here. Quite a scene indeed. She had started to laugh before the full picture hit her, leaning heavily against the door frame by the time her mind registered all of it, and continuing to laugh. Near the sink, splattered all over the windows and covering a great deal of the cabinets was what appeared to be lumpy pancake batter. The stove itself was covered in the burned remnants of what she could only assume were once attempted pancakes, the fan area just above the stove blackened by char. And in the middle of everything was Cloud Strife with a ripped apron, trying to pry a melted plastic spoon from a pan, and Vincent trying to rinse the pancake batter out of his hair under the kitchen faucet. Rodger was sitting at the table with his feet up, hands behind his head, watching.   
She wanted to save them from themselves. She really did. But she just couldn't stop laughing. She even heard a dull chuckle coming from Sephiroth at the back of her mind, but no comments were made. That was perfectly alright.   
"I think we'll have pizza again." Rodger muttered, seeing his great idea still exploding into flames in front of him--luckily the literal ones had all been taken care of. They'd simply need a new stove, some new cookware, and to keep Cloud and Vincent out of the kitchen at all costs. Oh yeah--and he ought to keep his bright ideas to himself.   
Kyrie tried to catch her breath while fanning herself. At least that had kept the chills at bay for a while. The nasty thoughts were squashed out, too; more than likely that much had been planned. Maybe not as perfectly as it had actually happened, but...   
Just as she had made the genuine effort to compose herself, she bore witness to Vincent's dripping wet head and began to laugh again. Granted there were many things regarding that particular thing to laugh about--best of which was that whole drowned rat look he had to him. He mumbled an incoherent blue streak as he passed her about his hair, his wet suit, and the need for a towel and another set of clothes.   
Rodger all too kindly called after him, "You can borrow anything you'd like from the left side of the closet."   
This caused another set of mumblings up the stairs. A T-shirt and jeans man, Vincent was _not_.   
Kyrie actually had to force herself not to follow behind. Hyne damn the son of a bitch in her head to the farthest reaches of hell--he was making the normally extremely enjoyable things more difficult. Were she "safe" she could playfully attempt to scare the shit out Vincent... or better.   
Rodger gave her an incredibly teasing look to which Sephiroth apparently felt compelled to comment inside his "vessel": _"Creature after my own heart."_   
_ "You better not fucking be directing that at me."_ She growled, trying to maintain her outward appearance of amused and easy going.   
He laughed, then remained silent once more. Not the most comforting answer, by far.   
Cloud apologetically threw the cooled pan, spoon still stuck to it, into the trash. "I'll call for the pizza."   
"Speed dial 1." Rodger grinned.   


Sitting at the kitchen table in wait (short a chair, granted), the rest of the group sat in absolute silence as footsteps traveled back down the stairs. Waiting. Anticipating. But the steps stopped just outside the kitchen, suddenly noting the complete lack of sound.   
"Oh come on." Kyrie dared him quietly, overcome with the need to see what he'd picked from Rodger's "collection".   
Being waited for, expected, was not one of Vincent's favorite things, either. He sighed, however, knowing there was no escape. He'd have to show them eventually. Why the hell hadn't he packed another suit? He didn't think he'd need it, that's why. And he certainly never thought he'd be wearing _this_... A ragged sigh was his surrender.   
Kyrie heard a steady stream of chuckling inside of her head. Truly amused chuckling. She couldn't really keep it in herself. Hey, he looked damn good in dark blue jeans and a dark gray tee, but... it was so unlike him. Apparently Sephiroth agreed.   
Vincent just sighed at the less than silent reactions. It wasn't exactly an insult, but even he could only take so much open abuse.   
"Lookin' good." Cloud grinned like a moron. Never in a million millennia...   
_Damn good._ Kyrie would have liked to have broken in with.   
"I'm going to wait for the pizza." Vincent tried to maintain his dignity--by removing himself from the situation entirely.   
Ah, morning pizza. It reminded one of Garden days. Not many of them, though. Kyrie and Rodger had only been able to get so many pizzas inside the Garden before they felt forced to seek it "on the outside". The Headmaster simply would not have approved. And certainly not have liked the fact that every once in a while Quistis would be invited to join them.   
_"Fond memories..."_ Sephiroth teased viciously.   
"_Didn't I tell you to shut up?"_ Kyrie snapped, unwilling to have the humor and fun ripped away from her so quickly.   
_ "A little girl like you issues no order to me."_ He growled quietly. All of a sudden, his mood seemed to shift from attack to something resembling... fondness. _"You should hold on to those memories."_   
_ "Didn't you tell me I'd be fine until I was 'ready'?"_   
_ "That's correct..."_   
_ "Well I'm not fucking ready yet."_ She assured, trying very hard not to let any of her true emotion fill her face. The last thing she wanted to do was worry her friends at this point...   
_"Looking for your happily ever after, princess?"_ he mocked. _"Think you deserve it, do you?"_   
_ "I damn well think I do, yes."_   
He laughed with a sharp, dangerous edge, prodding her further. _"Think your parents earned it for you?"_   
_ "I earned it for my damn self already."_ She threw back, tensing. "Where is my fucking happily ever after?"   
The two companions on either side of her paused and looked over. It had come out of seemingly nowhere, for no reason they could comprehend. It was a whisper, certainly, but...   
Her teeth clicked together, and instantly she plastered as sincere of a nonchalant, humored look as she could on her face. "Ahem. Just thinking out loud. Gotta let some of the frustration through, right?"   
_"Is that a point for me?"_ Sephiroth dripped with accomplishment.   
_"No."_ She hissed simply.   
Luckily something seemed to be smiling down upon her, just a bit. The doorbell rang and pizza was delivered to the hungry. For certain there'd be another pizza boy requesting not to be on deliveries to that particular house again. Vincent was frightening enough when he was in a perfectly fine mood.   


_"What is this foul stuff?"_   
Kyrie actually tried to suppress that grin. It was too devious, really. _"What, don't like it? It's pizza."_   
_ "It is foul."_ He repeated.   
_"Good."_ She shot back. _"I love it. And here comes the cola. Choke on it."_   
_ "Uck. I just might."_   
She swallowed another mouthful quickly, getting that unpleasant burning sensation in her throat. It was worth it, though. Another large bite of pizza took care of it.   
"Ha, see?" Cloud pointed. "Insanity makes you hungry!"   
At least that broke a bit of tension. "The accused" only gave him a smirk and took another swig of cola. Feeling Sephiroth's distaste made her feel even better. "You ought to know." She gave in, jokingly.   
"That's what I'm saying." The blonde grinned back.   
She really did have to give Cloud credit. Sometimes he didn't seem like the sharpest tack (brightest bulb, shiniest penny, et all), but he wasn't stupid by a long shot. Just... a little oblivious to the world every once in a while. At least Vincent finally had an appeased, amused look on his face. And Rodger was just plain close to relaxed at long last, enjoying this whole thing.   
_"He is a moron, you know."_ Sephiroth commented regarding Cloud. _"Underneath it all, he really is just a moron."_   
Kyrie let the smallest hint of a vicious grin pass over her face. _"And you're so above that, are you?"_   
He actually seemed to be a bit offended. Enough so not to have responded right away, at least. _"You are passing, you know."_   
Her heart _pounded_ for a moment. He'd been right. She was... sort of releasing. She'd been so damn desperate just to give her friends a moment or normalcy, to make them forget... that she had almost been ready to let go in the midst of it all, giving them a good, "normal" last memory of her. She'd caught herself, though. Or, more threatening, _he'd_ caught her. What the hell did he care, anyway?   
She tried to thrust that thought away from her, finishing her meal. _Last meal._ She tried to hold her thoughts back in desperation. _Hyne, I think I can feel it..._   
_ "Afraid?"_ the bitter voice in her head prodded ever so slightly.   
She didn't answer. She honestly wasn't sure. At all. Putting her plate on the coffee table, she had to bite her tongue to keep her hands from shaking. They felt... disconnected, like she was in a deep fever. But of course, only that arctic chill rippled over her skin. And she damn well knew she could fight it. And she damn well knew she could win again for a couple of hours. But before that, there might be more questions. More concerns. More chances not to have left them with a fondness of memory.   
But how cruel was it to leave them like that? Fondness, yes, but--a sudden end to the calm moments seemed so horrible. She ought to know. She remembered what it had been like in the moments before Squall's death... Not that it was all that much of a calm moment in time, really. But by comparison, in a way...   
She was grasping, and she knew it. Her mind was slowly sinking into a toxic ooze, and she felt every moment of it. The cold was stronger, now. A death grip seemed to be clutching near the back of her skull, and she could feel Sephiroth's presence even more clearly.   
_Damn you..._ her mind hissed... but whether it was directed toward Sephiroth, Jenova or herself, she really couldn't tell. She just looked for an instant at her friends around her, assuring herself they couldn't see it. She didn't want them to catch it just yet. Not until she'd have to... go.   
Oh, Rodger... her only love interest, ever. Sure many a creature was attractive to her, but she could never have fallen in love with any of them. Not like that. And to have him love back... wow. She'd miss him, dammit. Quite a lot. He was her partner in crime in every sense of the phrase.   
What was there to say of Vincent? She knew so little and so much at the same time. They had... a weird relationship. But she rather liked it that way. And could only assume he didn't mind, either.   
And Cloud... well, he was... one of a kind. Maybe that was a laughable way to put it, but it was true. He was part of her very foundation, whether he knew it or not.   
She suddenly felt Sephiroth soften as he looked upon the image of Cloud Strife sinking into the corner of the sofa, looking like he hadn't slept in months. There was something there that she didn't know, didn't understand; something she'd never seen before in those depths, nor could have ever imagined. She pressed for it mentally, searching.   
_"No."_ Sephiroth responded harshly. "_This is mine."_   
_ "You think you have a right to keep this away from me after all the shit you've put me through?"_ Kyrie hissed back. _"You've already 'shared' a lot I'd rather have never seen. So let go of this. We don't have anything to hide anymore, anyway."_   
_ "No."_ He insisted again, though softer. _"No, I don't want to remember it. Not again."_   
_ "Fuckin' tough."_ If she was going to leave everything she knew and loved anyway, she may as well go down with all of the knowledge she could grasp for.   
_ "Please..."_   
_ "_You_ are begging _me_ this time. I hope that's not lost on you."_   
_ "You can't!"_ he continued to insist desperately. _"You can't do this!"_   
_ "If you're part of me now, then I assume I'm part of you, too. And in that case... I can and I will."_ What exactly took place after that... well, she wasn't sure. She'd never quite felt anything like that. Maybe it was the Sorceress blood finally clinging to her, causing some sort of energy to strike all over her body. Maybe it was just the "letting go" that he'd spoken of. Whatever it was... it happened in a heartbeat.   
She _felt_ her body fall away from her. It had never been that clear before, never that... frightening. But then she'd never been so awake and completely aware when similar things had happened before--and this time she knew it was no illusion, no dream. She knew without a doubt that this time... was _it_. She may not return. She distantly felt her lips move to something like "Don't wait up for me" before her body simply fell away. She was _in_ Sephiroth, now--was a part of the man in mind, without body. There was a ripping, tearing pain thrust through the back of her head. It was a mental mergence of sorts, a... complete combination. Were she not in so much pain, she'd have been more frightened at that moment than at any other time in her life. In a sense, this _was_ death. And she was conscious for it. 


	9. Chapter 9

"Retribution Nor Redemption" and the general overall concept of "Retribution Nor Redemption" is completely copyright Orin Drake 2002-2003, as are the characters Kyrie Leonhart and Rodger Kinneas. The characters Seifer Almasy, Squall Leonhart, Quistis Trepe, Ellone (Leonhart?), Laguna Loire and Rinoa "The Great Big Bitch" Heartily (biased? me?) are copyright Squaresoft, as are the terms SeeD, gunblade, Trabia Garden, Griever, and probably a lot of other stuff I forgot to mention. Hell, if you played the game, you know. Enough said.   
Background: Well. Here is the "anticipated" sequel to The Sins of Two Fathers. This won't be as much action as it will be psychological warfare, I think. Don't know what else to tell you. Beware bad language, sexuality and social outcasts having fun regardless of their status at the expense of others.   
  
  


Retribution Nor Redemption   
Chapter 9   
by Orin Drake 

_Author's Note: Chapter 8 and 9 were_   
_uploaded at the same time. So, if you_   
_haven't read 8 yet, do so first. Also:_   
_**WARNING!** Plenty of disturbing stuff_   
_ahead. Yaoi, shounen ai, nonconsensual_   
_activity, violence and some general_   
_lovely squick. Enjoy._

It was like floating, kind of. Well, high speed floating, anyway. Zig-zagging to memories, back and forth from pictures and thoughts and experiences that passed by so fast they made no sense. It was like passing through a tunnel without physical substance, feeling nonexistent wind rage past you as you flew at speeds so great you became more than light.   
And then... a picture. No, more than that; an experience. Familiar, of course, but different as well. It felt like there may have been some sort of barrier before, preventing her from the full ability to live these memories. Now she _was_ these memories--or, rather, she was Sephiroth while he was remembering. She felt the tightness of the leather against his/her body, the steady thrum of machines and the stink of the entire compound.   
Something shifted--an area of memory that had been forgotten before suddenly intercepted their combined nothingness, bringing instead a well recalled event. A teen aged Cloud Strife was standing before the commanding officer he so adored, shaking like a leaf. It was quiet, deserted all around, and cool. There was that smell of machinery and old oil wafting through the air; and something else altogether. Through Sephiroth's eyes, she saw the younger boy stand suddenly on his tip-toes and press his lips against hers/his.   
_"So that's it..."_ she pressed further, trying to get a look inside the man's thoughts at that time. They were jumbled, though. Not on purpose, not to keep her away; maybe it was just shock. Had the boy surprised him with his affections? He seemed willing enough to return them, running his/her hands slowly over the boy's shoulders, not pulling away an inch.   
It broke, then. The memory shattered like a mirror, only the shards rushed her like fragments of stars--too bright to look into, too amazing to pull away from. If she could somehow just reach out, reach out and touch one of those fragments flying by, threatening to slice her open--   
Another memory collided into her, causing her to forget herself for a moment. In just that short glitch of time, she had merged with Sephiroth's emotions--burning fear and hatred.   
Coming back to herself, she realized where he/she was with a startling clarity. Hojo's lab... it was _exactly_ as she had dreamed it. She wanted to cringe back, close her eyes, run away from this godawful place. Of course, she couldn't. She was living this memory and Sephiroth was holding onto her mind as if she were the one that could save him from it. But of course, it all began unfolding anyway.   
He was a slender boy of no more than twelve, once again strapped down to a cold metal table to begin another Mako treatment. How he hated these things--they weakened him for hours, made him sick and could sometimes make things hurt that shouldn't. There were times when he'd lost his vision temporarily after a particularly lengthy treatment, and it never failed to scare him. There were no assurances of what would happen or when, but he'd learned a long time ago not to talk back. He still struggled, but it was always useless. It only brought his strength down more, in the end; but it let him live with himself. There had been a million ways he'd tried to escape Hojo and ShinRa, but nothing worked. A young boy was simply no match against dozens of SOLDIERS. There were always hundreds more where they came from.   
Another disorienting blur of details that were either forgotten or so repressed that they may as well have been. Left in their wake was only pain, brilliant and agonizing, struggling, straining, chafing, cutting, desperation of the worst possible nature. It was awful. It was not a thing one wanted to see, let alone experience. As the sickness came, that draining nausea from the treatments, the scene shattered again. This time it was not she that reached for a shard--   
If she was so curious to see his past, he'd show her some of it. Suddenly he/she was immersed in the cold of winter, walking along an empty alleyway. Of school age, he had been walking back to his dorm from a particularly annoying class. That much was clearly of little importance; especially when he turned the corner into his normal shortcut.   
A small group of boys--most at least a class or two higher than himself--had been waiting for him. Some held heavy ropes with knots, and others had been able to find things like chains and large machine pieces. He turned and ran for it as instinct dictated, but he was certainly not fast enough after suffering a Mako treatment the day before. Indeed it had _started_ as a bunch of boys having tried to merely beat up on him. But as they caught up to him, having pinned him against the snow littered concrete so easily, they began to have other ideas. There were about a hundred boys to every girl in the entire area, not to mention how little they saw something resembling a real and genuine female. But this kid, this silver haired freak who thought he was better than everyone else... his beauty went fucking _beyond_ gender. He was just gorgeous. And the bullies were not about to let him get away with being so pretty, so high and mighty. Not without a damn good fight for it. Or a right of passage.   
The pain was godawful. He/she was bleeding in gushing streams from time to time; as soon as one wound healed, another was torn open. Biting laughter, and worse--moans of sex and a flourish of pure sadism. Still he would not cry out. He wouldn't make a sound; he only fought desperately to control his breathing.   
_So this is my initiation into adolescence._ He thought calmly, even as he struggled not to be sick at the obvious feeling of the first one's completion inside of him. It didn't stop, however, until all of them had had a turn in trying to make him cry. Or at the very least gasp. They might well succeed later, when he was alone and away from them; but not now. He would never let them have the satisfaction. If he hadn't considered himself "better" than them before, it was surely being proven right then and there. He'd never have done this to any of them, for any reason--the simple idea of a human being actually doing this to another was sickening. Sickening and painful.   
The scene faded out just as his consciousness had, in the end. So awful... it had been so awful... She grasped onto something, anything, trying to escape that pain and that situation completely. She could still feel the burning, the desecration when another shift broke her thoughts and set her into another memory entirely.   
There he was. Vincent. Young and beautiful as ever, just after Hojo had finished having his way with his body. His skin was gorgeously white, his darker than pitch hair only to his shoulders, and his clawed hand was bound together with the flesh one to the headboard. His naked body was outstretched before her/him, shivering in frustration, anger, fear... and anticipation. It was in his eyes. His gorgeous, sharp, crimson eyes.   
Time seemed to stop with that picture, as though the memory could be paused like a movie. It wasn't as if they were within time anymore anyway, were they?   
_"So you like him like that, too."_ Sephiroth commented offhand, separating for a moment.   
At first, she kept her thoughts blank. But it was useless. He knew already. _"He's beautiful like that."_   
He laughed bitterly, his consciousness sliding back to wherever it had been before. _"I'm sure he'd love to know that."_ Her left her only with a little tease as he slipped his glove off, slowly reaching toward Vincent's thigh--   
Shards erupted in front of his/her consciousness again, but this time she could _feel_ the memory behind them. She could taste it, smell it like a hunting dog, just in front of her. Curiosity, an absolute need to know--she grasped desperately onto that one shard in particular, unprepared for what it showed her.   
She felt herself cringe mentally as his/her hand struck a teen aged Seifer. It was a brutal blow, possibly having broken his jaw. "You're not too old for punishment." Sephiroth growled, grasping the boy's collar. The look on his face certainly wasn't one of a young adult; it seemed to understand all of the horrors of the universe.   
She was utterly helpless to stop him, forced to sit back and watch what was to come next. She could feel his satisfaction in the back of her own thoughts, watching her squirm. As she bore witness to the clothes being torn to shreds, she wondered distantly just how many times this had happened; how many countless times Sephiroth had raped them, tortured them. It was no wonder. None of it was any wonder. All of who her parents were, together and alone, always... she understood. It hurt bitterly to understand, but... she did. She wouldn't give that part of this whole shredded experience up for the world--or the end of it.   
It was about to happen. Again. She felt it, the surge of lust and adrenaline right before the moment--_pain_. Searing, frightening _pain_ interrupted his/her satisfaction. Instead of finishing, he/she pulled away and looked back to see something that stopped the entire event dead.   
It was Squall, gory gunblade in his hands. He couldn't have been more than sixteen. He didn't look even that old, save the glassy shimmer in his hateful eyes and the defiance in his relatively defined body's language. He was simply elegant. Beautiful with this... internal power. Kyrie had never seen her father like that; he was clearly strong enough to save the world. His voice held a passionate echo all its own, and bravery she hadn't heard in it at any time in her life. "No more, Sephiroth."   
Enraged, he/she rose up and fully turned to the boy with vicious sneer. Blood poured down his/her shoulder blades, but the wound was already healing itself. "_What_ did you say?!"   
Young Squall neither backed away nor dropped the blade an inch. He was fed up and perfectly ready to take a stand. "Don't you _ever_ touch him again. Don't touch either of us, ever, again."   
_But why didn't you kill him?_ she was just enough within herself to wonder. Maybe it was quite simple--perhaps he'd known that Sephiroth just plain didn't die. He'd be gone for a while, but sooner or later he'd resurrect with a burning hunger for revenge.   
"I will kill you." Squall warned. "I _can_ kill you."   
"You can do no such--" the man began to thunder, advancing.   
Blood. Gunpowder. Pain. There was no vision, no sound.   
_He blew his head off._ She realized in the space between the shards, lightly falling away like snowflakes. _Way to go, Dad._   
There was a constriction before she was able to reach out again. Less and less she could feel herself, understand that she was separate. It was like falling in reverse, but it was not flying. It was without control, without space, without time. Suddenly there were just images, passing pictures of things repressed and left behind. Whirring, spinning pictures of Cloud, striking the would-be god dead with the Buster Sword--or so they'd thought. None of the memories were clear, the picture seemed as blurred as the memory was fuzzy. All he/she knew was death, end, completeness. In that last second of herself, Kyrie knew fear like an old friend.   


Nothingness. Emptiness. Darkness.   
No, that wasn't quite true. Darkness, indeed; she couldn't see anything. She couldn't feel her body, if it was still attached. It felt like she was floating beyond stars, beyond light. Empty and alone. Except, she wasn't. How she knew that, why she knew that... it didn't matter. Not here. There wasn't even any "here" to speak of. This, where--or what or when or how--she was, seemed beyond space-time, beyond reality or dimension. Even beyond what she knew of Time Compression. And it was scary.   
_"Where are we?"_ she whispered without the need for a mouth.   
His voice came in like a wave of sensation--but she knew it to be Sephiroth's without a doubt. She couldn't physically hear him, but it was his voice just the same. _"Outside of the Lifestream. I've been here before."_   
So many questions... but she sensed he may have no answer for any of them. Even he, the man who would be god, had no answers to this place. She let one pressing question escape: _"How did you get out of this?"_   
_ "I caught the edge of the Lifestream when it came by."_   
Not the most thorough answer, certainly. But it was enough for the moment. Hell, they could have been here a million millennia already. She began to wonder what was happening to her body. If there was still one to speak of.   
_"Time passes here more slowly than it does... in the physical realm."_ He responded to her thoughts bitterly. _"Just nothing... only nothing..."_   
_ "I suppose it gets maddening."_ She let herself make small talk.   
_"It's awful."_ He whispered. _"There are never any others. Never anything."_   
Were she capable, she'd have shivered. There was no cold or heat--no anything. It was endlessly frightening to try to understand, to grasp such things. They could drift apart or float together in virtual eternity... and neither thought was all that appealing.   
_"The madness stays..."_ he continued cryptically. While it wasn't his voice, it _felt_ like a voice; felt like it _ought_ to be a voice in the dark. And if it were a voice, it was breaking. A whisper and a scream all at once, an echo of confusion and burden. Pain, agony, almost... almost remorse.   
And Kyrie, or what was left of her, was scared. There was no heart to beat out of her chest, no breath to move faster, no fever heat or adrenaline to guide her reaction. But she damn well knew she was scared. How long had it already been? And what was to happen?   
_"Jenova, you cunt..."_ she heard a strangled plea; a _sane_ plea. But it melted back, back into whatever it had been before. _"So much. But it's not enough."_   
The ravings of a madman, it seemed. She'd be there sooner or later, she was growing certain. And why not start now? There was nothing to hide, no mouth to keep shut. _"You're no longer a martyr when this is over, you know."_   
_ "I never wanted to be a martyr."_ He paused, his mood shifting to something else entirely; a sad kind of fondness. _"I didn't even want to be a god. Not until... not until circumstances... dictated it."_   
That comment was almost laughable. But she couldn't find herself amused. Something about his tone, his thought process, was stronger than it had been before. It was frightening, really. There was an exceptional strength in it that she hadn't felt before, or maybe she'd just been unable. "_Then what did you want?"_   
_ "To be rid of _her_..."_ he growled, the voice growing stronger. _"To reap revenge from my... from Hojo. To.... t-to destroy everything I could never have again. Even when she let go of my mind from time to time... I still killed... I still... destroyed..."_   
She felt sick. Layers were beginning to separate, one by one, and peel back from their source. _Was_ there a "real Sephiroth"? Was he still alive in that fucked up consciousness? A massive feeling of heartache overcame her surroundings.   
_"None of this..."_ he rambled steadily, his tone rising and falling like a true madman, _"None of this should have happened."_   
_ "No shit."_ She released bitterly.   
There were no eyes to gaze upon her, but she felt whatever he now was focus on her. It was as if all things stopped, rushed upon themselves in one moment of clarity, and she was the center of it all. _"You don't belong here."_   
The fear caught her once again; not for the words, but for the tone. It was... different. Unweighted. Fucking sane, dare such a word be used on him. She couldn't answer, feeling shut off all of a sudden.   
_"No..."_ what was and yet seemed impossible to be Sephiroth's voice continued. The tone changed into one of agony, of longing and sadness that burned deeply. _"She used me.... She still uses me...."_ As suddenly as it had come, the weight of pain and regret simply vanished. That which remained, that voice... was sane._ "She will not use another. Catch the Lifestream, Kyrie."_   
Catch it? The fear only intensified. If she missed, would she ever get another chance? How could she catch anything without a freakin' body? _"How?"_   
_ "It will find you."_ He assured, that stronger voice beginning to fall away. It was fading out, almost. Leaving, floating, disappearing. _"Go home before she comes."_   
She wanted to ask so much, but she couldn't. It was too late and too far away. She wanted to know, wanted to figure this thing out, but--the chance had come, and it was _not_ going to be ignored. Her very consciousness felt like it took shape, colliding with something both ice cold and burning hot. It occurred to her that perhaps this was what light _felt_ like--   
Colors, sensations, sounds, pain, the smell of breakfast in the morning. Colliding, over and over, rushing through, into, between, creating, destroying, caramelizing--body. Form. Substance. Words. Emotions. Slipping; she was slipping through, licked by the fire of life itself and left alone.   


"Sephiroth..." It was as much a cry as it was a whisper. But no sound came from her lips, save breath.   
"_These are my secrets. You'll have to keep them for me."_ And then he, all of him, was gone.   
She swallowed as if she were savoring those words. Those final, complete words. The weight of the universe crashed down on her, and for a moment she gasped, drowning in it; emotion, memory, searing emptiness where she never thought she'd feel such a thing, light and substance where there had been none.   
That last thought caused her eyes to shoot open. Ceiling--not the ceiling of the universe that she'd anticipated, but the white ceiling of her parents' house. She was still in Trabia. In the house she grew up in. There was a click off to the side, and for a moment she felt as though she really ought to be closing her eyes again. Instead, she used all of the strength and effort she could muster, and turned her head.   
Vincent's finger had been on the trigger of his pistol; not just on it, but squeezing it. She knew that as fact, without question, without actually having to see it. The moment he'd seen her eyes--saw they were _Kyrie's_ eyes without a doubt--he dropped the muzzle. Even with his lightning speed, she caught him placing the gun back at his side.   
Was she back? Was this... over? Another rush of tingling pain at the back of her head caused her to close her eyes tightly, erasing the moment's thoughts completely. It wasn't quite like the ones before it, however. It was like... the aftershock of an earthquake. Something that had come so suddenly, stayed, then gone so quickly _had_ to have left _something_ in that brain of hers. The distant thought of migraines did not appeal, but that didn't matter at the moment. She actually _felt_... whole. More whole than in the rest of her life, in fact.   
"Kyrie?" It was Rodger's voice to her other side.   
She took a deep breath, trying to still herself. After that flood of _Sephiroth's_, things were just... weird. She had been... released. "Yeah." She murmured, the pain slowly fading into what she used to consider normal. Fading away like the emotions, but not the memories. "Yeah, it's... it's okay." Or so she hoped with driving desperation.   
But she was actually becoming pretty damn confident of that. It wasn't a feeling that she could have explained. Perhaps it was akin to an awe the likes of which people that communed with Hyne had; just a pure, brutal knowledge. She didn't know, and it didn't matter. She forced her eyes open again, seeing Vincent's knees at first. Well, that explained the ceiling; she was laying on the floor, apparently. It was a bit difficult to move again, like her neurological pathways were somehow reformatting. Why she got that picture, she wasn't quite sure. But she was aware that it mattered less and less with the passing seconds.   
With a deep breath, she rolled her head back so that she was staring up. Weak though it was, she started to laugh. Somehow at this point in time, the vastly worried eyes of Rodger, Cloud and Vincent were actually amusing to her, staring down at her as though she were already dead.   
The three gentlemen above her gave one another stunned looks as the laughter intensified. Only a moment later, Rodger's face changed to one of relief. That was the Kyrie he knew, alright. "I think she'll recover."   


After the much appreciated laughing fit, the next step was obvious enough. They'd insisted she see a medical doctor to make certain everything was physically alright. Mentally, well... that would probably just take time. She herself knew that there might be... issues, into the future. Nothing too serious. But there would probably be some nightmares, alright. It was the actual physical make-up of her brain that she was concerned about. The thought of migraines, again, were not appealing.   
The doctors in the Esthar Medical Center were told nothing of what went on. That made it a little hard to find out why she'd been brought to them in the first place, but Vincent did a good job being secretive, demanding and the like. Hey, he was good at it. As far as anyone knew, it was simply an extensive check-up.   
Everything came back fine. Well, apparently her blood pressure was pretty high, but was that much any wonder? It wasn't as if she could have explained that, though. The doctors said the best thing she could do was get some sleep. And she rather liked that advice. Unfortunately, it was revealed that she was to sleep _there_.   
Well, that much seemed utterly ridiculous. And annoying. But the "better safe than sorry" adage was brighter in this circumstance than in any other. As a just in case sort of thing, Vincent had gotten her a private room for the night at least. No one would bother her, and she could get as much sleep as she wanted. If she needed anything (or just felt like being a pest), there were plenty of doctors around to page. He assured her that the next day they'd work on... fixing the kitchen.   
"I'm betting it needs a complete overhaul after the small disaster that hit it." She teased, testing the hospital mattress with a bounce--only, it didn't exactly bounce back. That was rather odd. It was like a freaking Garden bed.   
"Cloud will pay for it." Vincent quipped quietly.   
"I didn't do anything!" the blonde protested.   
"Sure looked like you were doing something. Melting plastic over an open flame, I'm guessing." She continued relentlessly.   
As Cloud looked just on the verge of pouting like a little girl, Vincent interrupted. "We'll see you tomorrow, alright?" The almost nonexistent look he gave Rodger made it clear that he was trying to pave the way for the two of them to say goodnight, alone.   
"Sounds relatively good." Kyrie agreed with a pleasant sigh. "I've got a lot of catching up to do in the annoying everyone department."   
"We'll be waiting." Vincent grinned slightly, nodding before walking out. Cloud followed, still insisting (under his breath) that it wasn't entirely his fault that the kitchen was a mess.   
"Well." Kyrie invited. She and Rodger hadn't been in the same room, completely alone together, in way too damn long. Were she feeling up to it, she'd have celebrated their reoccurring togetherness with something more than conversation. Being poked and prodded all day by doctors, however, did not exactly set the mood.   
He took a deep breath, just cleansing the terrifying worry that clung to the edges of his thoughts. He'd still worry. He would for a long time to come. But he wasn't _as_ worried anymore. Before any words, he kissed her. He had to, dammit. "Are you going to be alright?"   
"Yeah, I'm... almost fine." She answered, pulling him down to sit on the bed next to her. _Just like the old days._ "I'll be fine when I get sleep, I think."   
He freely, gratefully snaked an arm around her waist. "What happened? I mean... I don't really know what I mean."   
She smiled, resting her head on his shoulder. There was a moment of contemplative silence as she tried to figure out exactly how to answer that. "I really don't know." She admitted. "It's all still... kind of dream-like and disconnected." Blurs of so much--it's not that she was forgetting it, though. She made certain of that much. It was just... taking time to come through in the right order, maybe. "I wish I could remember it clearly... and then, I really don't."   
He took a single breath again, slowly. "I'm glad you're alright." What an understatement.   
"Me too." She added, closing her eyes. For just a moment in time, she felt a little nervous about that action... but safe in it, too. She felt... safe. She hesitated to admit such a thing, as that was always the moment in the horror movies when monsters struck, but...   
"And we can have sex soon, right?" he grinned.   
"Very soon." She assured him, poking his side softly. "Vincent is on to you, by the way."   
He just stared at her for a number of seconds, getting the joke right away from the very tone of her voice. "Are we one fucked up clique or what?"   
"But it feels like home." She countered with a chuckle.   
"Thank Hyne for that." He sighed happily, hugging her.   
"Did you guys get to bond?" Her breath stopped short when he squeezed quite a bit tighter. Not like that was enough to shut her up, though. "Oh, come on. Details!"   
"Sick." He joked.   
"Yes." She agreed. "And?"   
"Afraid you'll have to wait for me to make up something steamy."   
"Oh dammit."   
Why was he with this girl, again? He laughed quietly at his own question, glad to have her back completely.   
"Did _you_ break the chair?" she dared, accusing with humor.   
"I'll get you another one." He promised.   
The comfort she found in his arms was starting to make her feel quite lethargic, actually. Not in a bad way at all; more like the way you feel in the winter, in your pajamas, in front of a warm fire. She really was quite exhausted. Though she damn well wished he could stay with her. She finally had to surrender to a yawn.   
"Guess I should let you sleep." Rodger sighed, pulling away just a little.   
"It better just be one night." She tried to assure the both of them. "Because I already hate this bed."   
He grinned with a slight nod. "Oh, I bet they'll be pushing you out the door by morning."   
She grasped hold of him again, hugging tightly. "I will see you tomorrow. So be ready."   
"Of course. I'll pick you up as soon as they shove you out the front door." He took a moment to look into her eyes. They were hers, alright. They were even a little... well, deeper, maybe. He couldn't explain that part, and it was getting too late to try. As long as she was still there, still with him. "You know I love you, right?"   
She smiled at that one. "Of course I do. And you ought to know I love you too."   
"I do." He promised. That's all he'd needed, really. There was another quick kiss before he somewhat forced himself to get off the bed and walk to the door. It had been automatically programmed to lock right after he left for security purposes (and so no one could annoy her after she was left alone). That kind of put him at ease for some reason. Strangely normal and slightly rude waves were exchanged, and he left with the assurance that he would see her again soon.   
Kyrie heard the small chime of the door lock, then the quiet beep as the security system set in. Well, at least no one would be getting in. She started to wonder if she'd be able to get out, picturing an ensemble of strange movies she'd seen in the past having to do with tying sheets together and escaping out a window. It was amusing, anyway.   
She glanced at the hospital clothes that had been left for her, and decided not. She'd rather sleep in her own clothes, thanks. And in her own bed... but that part couldn't be helped. It was kind of weird being alone, though. Welcome, in a sense--alone meant no bitch from the furthest reaches of the universe playing with her head. And no psycho son of a bitch doing the same thing, either.   
She sighed distastefully with that thought. Maybe he really hadn't been quite the cruel creature they'd all thought they knew he was; not underneath. Or maybe it was all just a lie. She wanted to ask, _"Is it over?"_ But she certainly couldn't bring herself to. Part of her didn't really think it was. She wanted so badly to understand what had happened... but it was too late, now. Too late to do anything but go over the events in her mind until they were raw, trying to figure it out. Had the Lifestream found her? Had she really caught it? Had _he_ shoved her in that direction? _Was_ there direction in which to shove?   
It really just made her head pound at that point. But, strangely, that wasn't the only thing being affected. The more she thought of it, the more she felt this... thing in her chest. It felt almost like Materia--but she knew there was no way it could have been. Still... it reacted to her thoughts, feeling like that second heartbeat that she'd been so used to before all of this shit happened. Curious, she tried to block out the impending headache and clear her thoughts entirely. She pictured a dark, hollow place within her chest as she did when she was using Materia. Nothing. But... but, _something_. Something as dark as the place outside of the Lifestream had been. It reflected no light, no thought--yet it held energy.   
_A momento._ She commented in her own head. Instead of being eerily revolting... it was actually a little bit of a comfort. It wasn't a materia--not entirely. It was more like... a piece. A chip. A heavy reminder.   
She wrapped her arms around herself--not out of being cold, but out of the need to find a little solace in herself. Had she really survived all of that stuff? Momento in tact... her mind still in tact... as was memory, experience, and her reality. Sure it had changed a bit, but... she smiled slightly with the thought of it. There had once been _something_ human in the man that was Sephiroth, that much was for sure. She really, honestly believed that it was that part of him that'd left this fragment behind. Even if it was a lie... she'd prefer to believe it.   
She sighed quietly, knowing that it was near impossible to get any sleep. Sure she was tired, but... it was a little hard to just let unconsciousness wash over one so quickly after they've lived through something like that. So much to reflect on, so much to try and understand--   
A sharp swishing sound in the dimly lit room caused her to shift her attention to the previously locked door, having been suddenly opened. Vincent had easily decoded the lock, breaking all of his own rules to come down and see her. How sweet. She held back a number of brutal comments, just for that.   
He was frankly not very surprised to see that she was still awake. And less surprised to see that she hadn't changed into the other clothes. Locking the door behind him, he invited himself over. What the hell.   
"Hey, Vinnie." She greeted quietly, knowing he was here to ask questions. It was an invitation, anyway.   
He smirked at that, taking a seat beside her. "How are you feeling?"   
She pondered that question, trying to get an accurate response for him. "Tired. A little dizzy. Somewhat buzzed."   
He seemed quite glad to hear it. "What do you remember?"   
Ah, the million Gil question. She closed her eyes as she answered, making a desperate attempt to focus on the memories of what almost seemed like a million years ago. "Fragments... memories and thoughts... and then something like the end of the universe." She felt extremely emotional all of a sudden. A strange thing for her. She was hit with the pictures of what Sephiroth went through while he was still "human", then the pain inflicted upon others--including her parents. It was overwhelming for a split second in time, rushing in as a tide and sweeping out almost as cleanly. "Just... insanity. Death... the end... of life, of Sephiroth, of everything... darkness and nothing..." She opened her eyes, the tide coming back with a vengeance once she chose to remember. His memories, his deaths, what he'd seen, the pain, the fear, the satisfaction of seeing that in the eyes of others... how very strange a thing it was to be left the holder of these pieces that weren't even hers.   
"You're _not_ crying for Sephiroth..?" he looked oddly disturbed.   
She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, feeling far too weird to be tearing up in front of Vincent. "No. No, not for Sephiroth." That wasn't really a lie. She wasn't crying _just_ for Sephiroth. It was for Squall. For Seifer. For what they'd done, and what they'd been forgotten for. What they'd been remembered for. The shattered memories Sephiroth had left her the sole holder of. The fact she really hadn't said good-bye to either of her parents. Not that it mattered, now.   
It felt weird, though. Very strange to be so... serious with Vincent. She knew him well enough to know that she shouldn't feel weird. And, obviously, she could say anything in front of him. So she sucked up the sorrow for just a moment to announce, "It's not what I expected, though."   
"What isn't?" he folded his arms, curious.   
"You. Naked." A large grin replaced any remnants of mourning.   
He stared at her, quite taken aback. After a moment the shock seemed to fade to normality as he responded, "Well, I'm not going to call or leave messages for you anymore."   
"Unfair." She protested. "I didn't mean it in a _bad_ way..."   
"Too late." He interrupted, feigning hurt. "I'm crushed." He didn't acknowledge what had obviously happened; it became clear she'd been so linked to Sephiroth that she'd seen his memories. In truth, he remembered every detail from where her comment had come. Even though he really didn't want to.   
A long, comfortable silence acted as an interlude. They both cast their gazes downward, merely running over recent events. It had been one hell of a scare. And who knew? Who knew this sort of thing could happen? Or that anyone would care, really. She'd almost been lost to the madness of the universe, to that place where the Lifestream--or whatever other of the millions of names that force must have--didn't often reach. Maybe there was a reason for that--maybe it acted as a Purgatory. Or maybe it was just all in her mind, or all in Sephiroth's.   
For no reason he could fathom, he reached out and held her to him. It was both a comforting gesture being offered, and somehow served to comfort himself, as well. He ought to tell her. Now would be the time. "Loire." He whispered softly. "Lucretia's last name was Loire."   
Her eyes widened as she computed that last bit of information. He'd never talked about Lucretia specifically; only a love lost, long ago and far away. Never a name, and certainly never an indication that they very well could be related.   
He felt her whole body stiffen with the sudden avalanche of thought. "I don't understand it, myself." He admitted. "Maybe somewhere along the line she'd hidden a child or... or something... but I don't know how. She never told me, but..." He lightly, unconsciously ran his flesh and blood fingers through her hair. "A thousand years should have destroyed the bloodline entirely. Maybe the Leonhart lineage had some, and possibly Heartily as well." Something had to explain where her crimson eyes had come from.   
_What a thought. Trying to feel grateful for Rinoa._ She didn't really have any sort of reaction at first. This was... new. Strange. But not... not really, entirely, unexpected. Was everything some sort of... "fated future"? Nah. Just stupid freakin' luck. Whatever it was, she was glad for it. She had a new connection to hang onto. It was... so much nicer than having old ones severed.   
Another long silence passed between them. Kyrie finally broke it in a quiet voice. "So... does this mean... I'm not supposed to picture you naked anymore?"   
He grinned so widely his back teeth may well have shone from his lips. "No, no. All's fair in this game."   
"Thanks." She said sincerely, changing the entire tone of the conversation. "For everything. I love you a lot, Vincent."   
That had been a bit shocking; maybe not the fact that it was true, but the fact that it was ever spoken. He really couldn't have said he minded, though. He let himself get just the slightest bit soft and hugged her tightly. "I love you too, Kyrie." Wonder of wonders. "You just sleep. We have plenty of time to make up for this moment of lapsed judgment later."   
She grinned at that.   


Rodger was indeed there to pick her up the moment she signed herself out. Granted it hadn't been one of the best or most comfortable nights of sleep in her life, but it had been good enough to have lowered that blood pressure. Finding nothing else in her blood tests, she was free to go quite early in the afternoon. And about that, she couldn't have been happier.   
Jumping into the passenger seat of the car, she ordered in dramatic movie style, "Let's get out of here."   
"You want me to peel out?" he joked, taking a good look around to make sure no one was approaching from any direction.   
"Well, it would make me feel better." She admitted.   
He grinned, doing as she wished. It wasn't exactly the most exciting thing to peel out of a parking lot only to go well below the speed limit behind a parking ambulance, but hey.   
"So why isn't there anyone else in the car?" she let her mind wander, rolling down the window. For some reason she felt like a dog must when it wanted to stick its head out of a moving vehicle. _"Freedom!", they must be thinking..._   
He shrugged, turning onto a side road that would eventually lead to the house. "Just thought you could use a little time at home before seeing anyone. Freshen up, get your insults straight, you know."   
"How sweet." Yes, she could use a shower. She'd be obsessively trying not to writhe around in her hospital-touched clothes until the moment she shed them in favor of soap and water.   
"How are you?" he took his eyes off the road just long enough to make sincere contact. "Really."   
"Much better." She responded honestly. "I'll be even better when I'm clean, and a thousand times more when I get to sleep in my own freaking bed again."   
"_Sleep?_" he mocked rejection.   
"Well, after a night of lovin', of course." She added, glad to be a part of this again.   


Traffic being surprisingly nonexistent at that time of day, they made it to the house rather quickly. Kyrie couldn't have been happier; the first thing she did was shed her clothes at the bottom of the stairs and throw them into the laundry room.   
"That was an unfair tease!" she heard Rodger shout after her.   
"Wait until I'm clean, then it won't be a tease anymore!" she called playfully from the top of the stairs. _Shower shower shower..._ She realized most people would find her need to be clean a bit much, but... it was a _hospital_, for Hyne's sake. She slept in a hospital bed. That could not have been entirely healthy, private room or not.   
She did pause for a moment upon entering the bathroom. It was a silly thing to do, but... it just sort of happened that way. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath. Nerves steadied, she gazed into the mirror--seeing only her reflection. Red eyes, as always. Her hair was mused all to hell, though. She was her. And that's all the fucking mattered. Well, that and getting clean.   
She was fully aware that her shower was a bit longer than usual. Not excessive, but... she had to scrub and condition, of course. That, and... she needed to reflect for a moment, at home. How the fucking hell had her mind survived all of that? How was she still... "whole" after those images, those memories--after Jenova herself had crashed into her mind..? But then, she knew she was a stubborn bitch. Maybe more so than even Jenova. That thought really did make her smile.   
Drying off took practically no time at all, and she rushed from the bathroom to the bedroom in two antelope-like leaps, grabbing for the first thing in her closet. Sleeveless red shirt, that worked. Black jeans, yep. Whatever.   
Darting out, fully dressed, hair still a little damp, she regarded the stairs for a moment. Technically she _could_ have slid down the banister... but she didn't want _any_ reason to have to go the hospital again for a long time, if ever. She was a little too likely to break a limb, therefore she went for the slow descent, making each step creak just a bit to announce herself. Rodger had seemed so eager, so she made her presence known.   
Halfway down, he stepped out from around the stairs and looked up at her with a miraculous grin on his face. "Might as well go right back up."   
"Aww." She stopped, placing a hand on her hip. "But I'm in the middle of the sexy slow descent down the stairs thing."   
"Tough." He threw back, climbing up to her level. "Just trust me on this one, will you?"   
"Hm." She responded, sensing something... amiss. Certainly not in a bad way, but... there was a plan at work, here. Oh, she liked that.   
He led her into the bedroom, but did not immediately start flinging clothing in all directions as she had anticipated. Instead, he gave her a come hither gesture with his hand as she playfully waited just inside the door frame. Having absolutely no problem with that, she approached. There was... something in his eyes. Something sweet rather than lustful, really...   
Without a word, he gently wrapped his arms around her neck as he often did when he wanted to tease her privately about something. But this time, she felt the tingle of cold metal against the back of it. And he was lingering without speaking far too long--   
He let go completely with a satisfied look all across his face, just waiting. Waiting for her to speak or glare at him or make any move at all in realization of what he'd done.   
Seeing him just wait there... she carefully grasped the small weight that was hanging at the hollow of her throat. A silver ring. On a silver chain. The image pressed deeply into the heaviest part of the band was that of Eleison; the Bloodcross and Griever having become one. On the inside of the band was the simple inscription, "Bellus Lunctus". _"Beautiful Together."_   
She met his eyes for a moment in pure surrender, tears very nearly flooding her vision. But her voice returned, as she forced it to. "Little late for promise rings, isn't it?" she joked.   
That beautiful, cocky grin lit his face and he moved forward again, capturing her forearms in a soft grip. He leaned down to kiss her, then passed her lips and spoke into her ear. He would do this the right way. He would do this _his_ way. _Their_ way. After all, in their eyes they'd already been married for four years "Whaddya say we shut Vincent up and make this thing legal?"   


They could have made one hell of a big deal out of this whole marriage thing. But they didn't. Just a Justice of the Peace in Laguna's office to make it legal before sending him on his merry way; no bells, no whistles, just the signing of paper and a party. Besides the president and the couple, no one else in attendance knew they were getting married at all, and certainly not there and then. It was a pleasant surprise for all the guests, most of which had been called "immediately to the Presidential Estate for a matter of some urgency." If there was one thing Kiros could do well, it was be utterly serious.   
Vincent had an inkling. He couldn't have helped but have had an idea; he just happened to know that Rodger had been to a jeweler the night before thanks to Cloud's desire to see if there was anywhere else to work in the mall. It was kind of fun to have a spy again. Even if it was accidental. He leaned back, crossed his arms, and enjoyed everything to the fullest.   
Quistis, well... she had an inkling, too. But she wasn't about to have set a date for a pool or anything. They did what they did on their own time, those kids. She was thrilled as hell to see it happen in front of her, though. So much so that she was caught up in tears--until the punch came around. Then it was simply all smiles.   
Selphie and Irvine had gotten there in separate cars, separate trains, but stood together as the whole event was taking place. It was _their_ son, getting married to _their_ old friends' daughter. They could make an effort to be friendly, after all.   
Cloud was bordering somewhere between happy and aghast. He couldn't find the food. He knew there was food, he could smell the food, but no one was eating the food. There was no food in sight. It was a party--where was the food?   
Kiros was... as Kiros was. Fretting over everything silently, pacing back and forth but out of range of everyone's vision, trying to make things perfect and the mood just right--and then Laguna put a heavy hand on his shoulder and pulled him back to stand beside him. Silently, he chastised him for never taking a break and ordered him to just _stay_ there and let imperfections happen, orders from the president.   
Ward stood to the side of his old friends, trying to look big and tough and unaffected. It was hard, though. He kept tearing up and wishing he'd brought that straw hat along to hide behind...   
Ellone stood on the other side of her father, hands clasped over her mouth in pure and utter lunatic joy. It was all she could do not to shriek happy things. She was trying to hold it all in, really she was.   
Laguna himself stood there with a great big, sure grin on his face. He was damn proud. That Rodger had proven himself, alright. And someone needed to keep Kyrie in line, after all. Or... well, close enough to count, anyway.   
  


The dream that night was unlike any of her other dreams; it had been in black and white. She never dreamed in black and white. But the images were somewhat more significant. She smiled, stretching, _tasting_ the effect of that dream as she snuggled closer into Rodger's arms... All it had been, all it was, was a glimpse of a white lion and a white peacock off in the distance. And when she closed her eyes, she thought she could remember seeing something else. Some other white form. Some kind of... one winged angel, standing off to the side, watching. 

_Fin_


	10. Author's Notes

Retribution Nor Redemption   
Author's Notes   
from Orin Drake

For me, the ending is a happy one. But it's always open to interpretation. I'm sure everyone's aware I'm not usually one to leave a happy ending just laying there. *grin* Who knows, right? What I do know, is that this is not the end of Sephiroth by a long shot. Here's to Square offering more fanservice to us Sephy fans. *clink*   
Now as to whether or not there's more of Kyrie's life to tell... I don't know. I really don't. Sure, why not, maybe, possibly, maybe not. How's that? There was something funny recently that sparked my imagination, but more in a short, humor type of way. So... we'll see how that goes. You must know by now that Happily Ever After gets real boring, real fast. I recommend you don't hold your breath, though.   
Special thanks goes out to Andariel, for continually forcing me to write under threat of a gunshot to the foot. Alright, maybe it wasn't quite that intense, but you can blame my actual ability to finish this story on her. Also, thanks go out to Flipsy/Brandy for the encouragement. And of course a touch of the squicky insanity is owed to Fire Ceremony, who ultimately inspired me to write a FF8 fanfiction in the first place with the words: "Sephiroth and Squall had similar stances at the end of fights". No one knew it would erupt into this. Except my muses, who of course I must thank as well. They're touchy.   
A next project? No idea, as for the fanfiction world. I've got a hell of a lot going on in the original story department, though. Hey, maybe one of these days I'll finally finish the sequel to Chrome. 


End file.
